These hands hold much too tightly to break free laced with sweet words beyond year long journeys and laying in bed with your breath on their neck and the wood floors are cold.
Their smile does not release these butterflies, but they make your stomach drop so far that you hope they'll have to kiss you to pull it back up and push your heart out of your chest and these fingertips dance across midriffs and breasts and these blankets are cold.
Huddle for warmth as these winter winds try to blow out these flames that you've made where you lay, but this beating of hearts and intertwined legs keep these thoughts that are scary away and at bay. Those lips that you kiss at the end of the day are the petals you miss when your garden's astray and these winds blow harder, and stronger, you stay, with this love in your arms that you make sure won't break, you protect it with sweet words and coffee in bed and these hands intertwined like your legs in your bed and these shattered pieces from previous nights are being picked up by the love of your life.
YOU ARE READING
Poetic Relapse.
PoetryA place for me to write poetry whenever it arises in my lungs, when I have no air to scream these words that haunt me into my days and night
