[ 1745 hrs. ]
at this hour, more or so,
i laid between the blankets
and cushions.
inhaling every bit of you
as i feel the rise and fall of your chest,
and the soft hums of your warmth
against at my most vulnerable skin
the sky was at its most golden.
the remains of the sun rolled down
through my bedroom window,
and slowly,
yet calm. and sure.
i have fallen in love with you once more.
but what should us could've be?
when at wake,
i lay alone between the blankets
and cushions.
inhaling every bit of what
i could still grasp in memory,
of you.
and the sun that rolled down
through my bedroom window
was long replaced
by the darkest ebony.
YOU ARE READING
IMP /SEC
Poetry─「 🕓 」 ───────── in every second of the clock, i think of you and you alone ╱|、 (˚ˎ 。7 |、˜〵 じし ˍ,)ノ ──────────────── 𝐈𝐌�...
