Her short black hair against my pure white pillow,
She moves back and forth, farther and closer, within a dance. . .
I push myself into her heart, and pull back out, out of her life once more.
I push into her heart, deeper and deeper still, into a trance,
yet left to pull back out, out of her life once more.
However too soon, forced too stop, we can't do this anymore it is said.
But why, why is it, I can't help but to love you untill the day I am dead,
So I can't be pushed away, I can't pull out forever, I must continue this dance.
For which it is only the one thing of you that I can grasp.
YOU ARE READING
PoemsBleh
PoetryI only write poetry because I believe it's a way to show emotion, without being completely straight forward and overbearing with emotion. Poetry is a way to show who you are, so here's me.
