written on 3/24/21
---
i press my fingers to your lips
i beg, "don't make a sound."
your breath against my fingertips
our time is silent now
your eyes blink back
against my gaze
and what we lack
is here today
i'll let you choose
how we're confined
your mouth won't move
and nor does mine
i want to speak
to give you life
i'm just too weak
as you will find
to breathe my air
into your lungs
i cannot care
what you'll become
for what you are
i cannot keep
when i'm too far
for you to see
i press my fingers to your skin
but there is no one there
when is it my turn to win?
how can this be fair?
---
just something i wrote today just thinking about things though i'm not too sure why. hope all is well loves
YOU ARE READING
folie
Poetryjournal-like entries taken from my journal filled with poems and tales that might not make much sense to you. read if you don't mind it, though.
