as he slips his fingers inside the waistband of my pants,
he whispers the love for me he has.
and it's every time I give him my body is it he says those words.
and eventually I noticed.
not once has he said I love you not touching my naked limbs.
but,
every time he craves,
I let his fingers slip down my pants,
his fingers playing with my bra strap...
allowing him to slip it off my skin.
every time he craves,
I hear the I love you play past his lips.
but every morning I hope for him to say those three words to me,
but every morning,
he never speaks it.
not once.
I always let it go,
telling myself it's just how he is.
and maybe a part of her was right.
but he knew he could never hold genuine love for her.
he could only hold love for her body against his.
YOU ARE READING
my lover poets
Romantikthe thoughts about love. Simplicity form yet addictive to consume your mind over. Love isn't always perfect. (I know I'm not a perfect writer in poetry, but I thought it would be fun to write out some thoughts I have, and things I've learned int...
