“the constant part of love” – Nayana Nair

i remember your hands and their warmthlike i rememberthe versions of methat were easier to live with (or so i think).the colors, their unnatural brightness,the scent of acetone always lingeringon the tips of your fingertips,always hiding a sad rainbow (just my type).always a star that you forgot to rub and break,shined on your skin.under myContinue reading ““the constant part of love” – Nayana Nair”