Look at me as if you'll never be able to see again.

Lay on top of me like you're coming home.

Like you finally find yourself.

Kiss me with passion and hatred, for you love doing it, but remember the torture of not being able of doing it again.

And, last but definitely not least, love me like you could -and would- love yourself. 

Then, and only then, I will be able to do the same. 

Geschreven door Dorien Wynant op 08/11/2018 - laatst aangepast op 08/11/2018

  • poëzie

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