Catharsis: 365 days of poetry

105: like a phantom holding my hand whenever.

It must be the way you stare at me.
Your tenacious steely eyes,
pierce gaze it is all I see
my drug, my vice.

It must be the way you talk.
How you care about small things
from my goals to the way I walk,
and the way you work out my kinks.

It must be the way you touch my soul.
Hot to the touch, the way you do.
From my skin hot to the core,
warmth across my blood too.

It must be you.
It is you, my alleviation.
Keep doing like you do,
you, my imagination.