his fingertips was craving to write her name on the surface of his beating heart,
even he knew it was medically imposibble,
and mentally crazy,
but that's what he'll do.
she traces her index fingertip on his cheek, lips, nose,
when he was sleeping,
pretending that his skin was a dark canvas of a sky,
she draw constellation of her,
so his sky was full of her stars.
he palms her cheeks,
he look at the two orbs that tamed him,
he feel his heart getting excited,
her smell is his weakness,
her warm skin inviting his fingertips to caress them,
he would do that for the rest of his breathing phase.
she was looking at her lover,
his intense and lustful stare,
making her legs feel weak,
moths happily roaming around in her stomach,
her heart skips two beat,
"i'm yours,"
she whispered on his lips.
YOU ARE READING
s o r r y
عشوائيart doesn't come from happiness, sadness is a part of you that you need to fix them, if it was left unmend it will cause agony to your soul and mind and surrounding. everyone deserves to be hugged, kissed, fixed, glued,patched and heard.
