I used to own those hands that roam around with mine
Those genuine smiles that I'm the reason of
The tears that he desperately shed, those were mine too
His sterling eyes that only shine for me
His irresistible lips are only mine to kiss
He's my form of art, my catharsis
He was mine.
But nothing remains mine anymore
And it's okay
Because not all art are destined to hang
on the same wall forever
YOU ARE READING
Chained
PoetryI asked you if you love me. You widened the space between your thumb and your index finger, saying, "this much" And then I asked you if you love her. Your silence made me realize that both hands weren't long enough Completed.
