Entry tags:
The Return
My boyfriend and I fly back to London tomorrow.
If our Lufthansa flight disappears over the Atlantic, I'll come back to visit you (yes, you reading this--I'll be by the foot of your bed at night, when you wake up with chilled toes.) I won't do anything; I'll just stare. And in my stare you'll know that I won't rest until my body is found at the bottom of the ocean.
If our Lufthansa flight disappears over the Atlantic, I'll come back to visit you (yes, you reading this--I'll be by the foot of your bed at night, when you wake up with chilled toes.) I won't do anything; I'll just stare. And in my stare you'll know that I won't rest until my body is found at the bottom of the ocean.