the past is just practice. by paperheartsyndrome, literature
Literature
the past is just practice.
we spent last summer blowing kisses that never made it to their destinations. and now i dont know what to say to you to make all those wasted words seem right. its like we were waiting for our first kiss but neither of us had the guts to make the first move so instead we lay side by side not touching, not moving, breathing on opposite intervals. id say your name but you werent listening. youd whisper i love you but you didnt mean it. it was summer and you should have tried smiling with your eyes.
___
last autumn, we were flying paper airplanes with our wishes into the wind but they kept coming back to us.