fishnet ladened patterns deep within my skin,
and i'm not sure why so that my words won't seem to begin,
as i lay beneath your body heat trapping me,
as i picture all the things that i could be,
if not consumed by the hunger of your touch,
and i don't think i'm asking for too much,
if you could stay another night,
just until the sky goes bright,
because i know tomorrow there'll be another you trapping me in body heat,
and dreams of a different beat,
because its so addicting for your heart to beat onto my ear,
and to run from all my fear,
but why is it yet a sin,
that i am simply fulfilling my need for kin,
if yet so i was not born to be out on the streets,
but rather was i to be tangled in your sheets?
YOU ARE READING
Kalopsia.
PoetryKalopsia • Noun ; The state in which everyone and everything looks beautiful. ✧一 一一 一一 一一 一一 一一 一一 一一 and here the words will bleed onto the page of each separate chapter in my mind, and the words will fall so effortlessly out of my eyes. 一 一一 一一...
