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Emily O'Keefe

@emilyyyokeefe-blog

Just living life
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The first time we kissed tasted like hope. The beginning of something magical; slow dances, new promises, hazy lazy Sunday mornings, electricity, beautiful. I could have lived off that taste. The second time we kissed tasted like forever. It was going to last, I knew it. I would make sure of it. This was it; a big house, an even bigger family, family parties and new furniture and fights that ended in even more kisses, more fucking. I always chose arguing with you over loving anybody else. Every kiss, every day, tasted so familiar and sweet. I had your smell on my lips, your taste on my tongue, your heart in my hands. The last time we kissed tasted like goodbye. And nothing else. Nothing at all.

Kissing You (via the-taintedtruth)