He knew there were a lot of things he would forget but
the length of her gray sweater
the smell of her neck as she turned her head
the way her hand held the stem of the martini glass
the height of her black boots—hint of purple on the straps
the curve of her thighs and
the way her hair swept across her forehead
barely touching the frames of her glasses
would never be one of them.
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2 comments:
me gusta.
me gusta tambien. i like that you capture the detail in every little thing.
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