It hits like a love letter you find in the back of a dusty drawer, creases and all. It aint loud, it dont scream, it just hurt, quiet and steady, like a bruise that never quite fades. Yeah, this one got that vintage pain. Not the messy, shouty kind. Nah, this is soft-sinking sorrow. Like two souls meet in a sleepy village, find that once-in-a-lifetime spark, and then reality tell them, “times up, lovebirds.”> "we could’ve had forever, but fate was petty."
It hits like a love letter you find in the back of a dusty drawer, creases and all. It aint loud, it dont scream, it just hurt, quiet and steady, like a bruise that never quite fades. Yeah, this one got that vintage pain. Not the messy, shouty kind. Nah, this is soft-sinking sorrow. Like two souls meet in a sleepy village, find that once-in-a-lifetime spark, and then reality tell them, “times up, lovebirds.”> "we could’ve had forever, but fate was petty."