"π’πΈ π'π΅π΅ πΌπ½πͺπ πΎπ·ππΈπ»π°π²πΏππ·
ππ·π π'π΅π΅ π΄πππΉ π΅πΈπΏπ π½πΈπ°ππ½π±ππ»
ππ·π π'π΅π΅ π«π ππΈπΎπ»πΌ ππΈπ»ππΏππ»
π'π΅π΅ πΌπ΅πππΉ π¬π΅πΈπΌπ π½πΈ π±ππͺπΏππ·"
-ππ’πͺπ¬π«
ππ²π«π±π’π―
Close my eyes and listen to you cry
Because, for once It's not me,
Will you let me help you?
Because, for once It's not me,
Will you let me help you?
I want to be closer than close
I want your exhale to be my inhale
I want our hearts to beat in sync
I want your exhale to be my inhale
I want our hearts to beat in sync
Baby
_you*are*never*too
far*away*because*i*know
we*are*close*in hearts.
__
it was a winter kind of love,
the kind that spoke with eyes, actions and bodies.
because the chill and cold didn't matter when limbs became tangled.
neither did words. they weren't enough.
why did one have to say, "I love you,"
when it could be spoken through fingers on the spine and lips on the collarbone?
it was the need for presense.
for keeping the hands from getting numb, and making the cheeks warm.
because there's no such thing as too close when it was this cold.
it was a winter kind of love,
the kind that melted like the snow.
When you become really close to someone, you can hear their voice
in your head when you read their texts.
