Warm and fragile, scars on his knees and a cut healing slowly on the hand.
I watch his body as if is a map to explore.
Warm and pretty, his skin tone makes me want to hold him closer.
Never ending kisses for me, but he wants to go farther.
Kisses on my fragile skin, lighter then his and never tanner.
The eyes of a deep green, observing me, not in love as much as he should.
But blind, I thought it was just as much as mine.
What's inside your pretty mind? My loved won't tell more then what I get used to hear.
What's inside her?
The one judging my love and affection as wrong and possessive.
I easily get my envy speak,in rage.
I may obsessively think about it, making my place only where there is his presence.
But it feels safe to do so.
Making a home inside this love.
She thinks of me like a fool.
I'm not, I look resentful at that unwanted girl, as she is not just trying to warn me about something truth.
After knowing the ugly reality, I understood she was right.
I was a fool only filled with love, without a place to go I now don't know what to do.
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Called home
Poetrywhat do you call home? a place, a person or a memory? maybe a song, a picture still inside your room... maybe them all, maybe nothing can let yourself feel calm enough to call it home. A lot of different scenarios with different experiences, what w...
