I still imagine you in my bed.
A whisper away; I feel your breath on my skin.
Frozen, yet warm.
It washes over me.
Intoxicated, staring into your eyes.
Your heart beats,
mine washes away like sand.
Never to return.
YOU ARE READING
Short stories, poems, and nothing in particular
PoetryA collection of stories, poems, and writings. For those who enjoy anything different, and love literature of all styles
