Words form butterflies
Hidden in the depth
In the deepest pit
Of my stomach.
There are poems etched
In the cells of my blood
Carrying pieces of you
Through every particle
Of my being.
Memories of you crawl
Beneath my skin
And the syllables you whispered
In my ear
Linger in the shadows
Beneath my eyes.
Haikus and sonnets
Ballads and limericks
Hide in my arteries
Flow through my veins
All forming an echo
Of your name.
Words that no pen
Could ever inscribe
That rush through my mind
Painting pictures of your smile
Your face
Your touch
Your ghost
At the midnight hour
When all I need
Is the feeling
Of your hand in mine
That no depth of words
Can describe.
YOU ARE READING
Ink Stained Soul
PoetryAnecdotes and snapshots of life, sometimes mine sometimes based off of other people, events, songs, books, etc. I hope you enjoy it, but more than that, I hope you can connect with something bigger than all of us. After all, isn't that the point of...
