You look at me with a sharp gaze,
Mouth salivating with the taste of wonder
Of what a human can create
Make and shape
Into the palm of your hand.
You lose your breath
Panting begins to escalate
Glares begin to infatuate
Your senses onto my own fragility.
I speak no words but
Just shape myself
Into the form of which you cannot surrender
Your senses onto my own fragility.
Soon the clock strikes
Your senses spike
and no less than a minute
That your touch is wandering my form.
I speak no words,
Just bracing myself,
for I am simply made of clay.
YOU ARE READING
Collections of a Thought-Volume 1
PoesiaThis volume of poetry contains the topics of love , obsession , loss and healing. It touches on subject matters that may be overlooked and shadowed. It is expressed in deep thoughtful words. Some of the poetry in this volume contains personal exper...
