We were always kissing one another.
Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
dress. undress again. you have me like a drawing, erased, colored in, untitled by your tongue.
Memories are what warm you up from the inside. But they’re also what tear you apart.
Frédéric Chopin – Nocturne in F minor, Op. 55, No. 1 – Idil Biret