Postcards And Polaroids;

There's so many things left to say, about that end of summer that I'll never forget.

Every year that goes by, a year we'll grow older we aew, but I know that we'd be beautiful again someday.

You still have all of my heart, every inch, every muscle, every beat to it.

I love you.



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These hands are shaking cold, your hands are mine to hold.