My fingers tremble,
they crack out like tombstones of a broken oath,
nailed with agony,
on the sight of broken statues and stars,
for it reminds me of your painted footwork on the doorstep,
dusted and left out on the cold,
or the way your kiss still lingers and stings my collarbones,
even if it has just been weeks since our last encounter,
I miss you so much that it hurts,
I miss you a lot,
that I wish,
and pray,
that your touch won't just be another "phantom sensation",
Like how I felt years ago when I lost a part of me.
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𝙄'𝙢 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙛 𝙤𝙛 𝙢𝙚 | ✓
Poetry𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭. 𝘛𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘭𝘺𝘳𝘪𝘤...