No evidence of her in an orange dress and him in his suit, dancing.
Awkawardly tripping, laughing.
No one thought to capture the night's innocence or passion.
Yet, it's my favorite story to tell. I can still feel his fingers tracing mine, his kisses on my eyelashes.
His earnest goodbye.
No way to prove that, even then,
they knew it was love.
But believe me, it was love.
1 comment:
i like this.
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