It's always the same.
You, in all your glory.
Me, with my lack thereof.
Your hand in mine,
Warm and familiar,
Like the comforting weight
Of a child's favorite blanket.
I feel tears on my cheeks,
But I can't tear my eyes away from yours.
Fantasies, forgiveness,
All made flesh.
Then, I wake up,
And you're gone.
The warmth of your hand replaced
With the coolness of my pillow,
Damp from my drool and tears.
It's always the same,
And yet I never learn.
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PoetryJust some poems I wrote and felt like sharing *Credit to the original owners for the artwork!*
