Nostalgia
I miss the taste of aftershave
And the smell of mint on his breath
The softness of his skin
The smooth touch of his lips
The look in his eyes
The passion in his movements
I always fall
And the smell of mint on his breath
The softness of his skin
The smooth touch of his lips
The look in his eyes
The passion in his movements
I always fall
This Poems Story
Wishing you had something when it isn't there.
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