It had been a while since I saw him last,
And yet it felt as though we never parted -
He still fits perfectly into my arms;
His lips still had that bittersweet taste.
We spoke for hours, into the depths of the night,
And I realised all of the little things I'd forgotten:
The roughness of his skin despite his soft touch,
The smell of smoke clinging to his overcoat.
His stubble scratched my face as we kissed,
The hands upon my body cold, fiercely contrary
To the familiar warmth in his gaze.
If only he didn't have to leave again...
I have kissed him goodbye so many times,
And each time I have tried to remember every little thing
That defines the man that he is:
The fire in his eyes, the chill of his hands,
How our bodies would melt together, my head on his shoulder,
The quick-witted remarks and the slowest of kisses...
It's been a while since I saw him last,
And yet it is easy to imagine that he's here with me now.
He still fits perfectly into my arms;
His lips still have that bittersweet taste.
YOU ARE READING
Refraction.
PoetrySo many aspects, colours and themes make up our experiences. Truly, is anything entirely good or entirely bad? Upon weighing up the positives and negatives of the past, do we not admit that even tragedy is- in a twisted sort of way- advantageous? O...
