You touch me like I'm poetry.
Carefully your hand brush my skin,
Let me be your papyrus.
Hide me in your iris.
You will have nothing to decode,
For souls speak the same language.
YOU ARE READING
Love poems ?
PoesiaTime for me to crawl out of my hole of stoicism and shame to feel the warmth of the loving sun (Desultory updates.)
Museum
You touch me like I'm poetry.
Carefully your hand brush my skin,
Let me be your papyrus.
Hide me in your iris.
You will have nothing to decode,
For souls speak the same language.
