Sometimes I feel like when God was painting me, she mostly painted me with a pencil of sadness, then when she saw that it was too much, she painted another color, but underneath all that color of sadness remained.
No matter what the story may be about, in the end, it is destined to find its way back to his hands. ᥫ᭡
I remember your eyes. Your smile. Your arms around me. I remember it all — and I wish memory could forget.
psz
