Posted in art, english, friendships, journal, love, poetry, random, word vomit

w a x

I’ve always liked the feeling of your wax-coated hair beneath my fingers. I don’t know exactly why I never told you that. Maybe, I became rest assured that there will always be a perfect opportunity for me to tell you all of my favorite things about you… about us. I didn’t know back then that I shouldn’t wait for the perfect timing because there is no such thing. But now, you’re gone and I never told you that I’ve always liked seeing your wax-covered brown hair brush against my fingertips.

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