People enjoy their space.
This I've come to understand well.
But he doesn't want space
from me.
He wants me
all the time.
When we sleep
And he rolls over
To drape his arm around me and pull me closer.
His lips attaching to my shoulder,
His chest keeping me warm.
Some believe it's intense,
to have someone so close
so protective,
strong and tall.
And it is; intense.
And perhaps I like it that way.
YOU ARE READING
growing pains
PoetryVarious poems of sadness, love, and heartbreak. Short stories of young adult hood, growing mature, and realism of life that society often doesn't prefer to speak of out loud. Learn to grow through the pain.
