His lips tasted of mine;
Of rum, I think,
And we laid together
Until midday.
He stayed the night,
And whilst the air
Was flirtatious,
We did nothing but be there;
Be here,
In my bed.
I wondered what he was thinking -
Was he thinking at all?
For a man who claims
To have no feelings for me,
He has an unusual look
In his eye,
And a tenderness that was not
There before.
This time, he truly listened
When I spoke,
And when we woke up,
He put a playful kiss
On the tip of my nose.
The little noise of happiness
He made when I settled back down
In his arms...
It made me wonder
About a great many things.
What he was thinking was but one -
Another thought was simply
What I was doing; why?
Did I like him? Love him?
Was I even attracted to him,
Despite the words I say?
I thought that I
Was overthinking,
And now I think
I ought to give it some time:
I think much faster
Than I can feel.
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...
