The taste of smoke on your tongue.
The smell of rain clinging to your skin.
Droplets fall from your soaking hair,
falling onto soft skin.
I breathe you in,
the smell of home.
I grab a towel and you fall to the floor,
finding the space between my thighs as I pat you dry.
Soft smile, soft touches, soft looks.
You turn your head, a soft kiss brushing against my skin.
A tingle left behind, burning a memory into me.
We fall asleep tangled in each others limbs.
When I wake, the smell of you still lingers.
The imprint of your shape still in my mattress.
You are a home I do not live in.
Gentle love that is not mine to keep.
A silent goodbye.
An empty house.
YOU ARE READING
The diary of Seth Alexander
PoetryI write to cope with life, so maybe this might help someone else cope too, idk. Trigger warning for suicidal ideation, S/A, and Abuse. There's not many mentions of them directly as this is more about my emotions and moments of reflection, all neatl...
