I know less about him
Than I know about living
But he manages to make me feel alive
When we're alone together and
When the two of us are kissing.
Eyes closed exploring,
Neither one of us talking
Hands hungry, grasping
Thoughts as heavy as our breaths
We both know there's no chance of us lasting.
His name is strange on my lips
But I'm familiar with his arms
He knows just how to hold me
His voice flows and lilts then stumbles
Its his melody, his dance.
I don't know where his scars are from,
But I'm counting them this once
That once will be the only time
Fingers trailing fire on his skin
In this hours imitation of love.
His hair is dark and rumpled
Like unkempt burnished sunshine
I run my fingers through it
Remind myself that even when he's with me
He's never really mine.
His eyes meet mine
They're silver, effervescent
But there's always a wall between us
He breaths my air and touches my skin
But still he's somewhat vacant.
YOU ARE READING
31 Days Of Imagination (Poetry)
PuisiI set myself a challenge for this month to write a new thing every day. This is the outcome, I hope you like it. I will be adding stuff as I go along. NOTE- PLEASE DON'T JUST READ THE FIRST POEM IN THIS SERIES, MAYBE CHOOSE ONE AT RANDOM! :)
