I don't seem to miss people, I don't crave their faces.
I seem to miss the way you made me feel. The way you made my emotions fight for dominance.
I somehow, crave your essence, the way my scent gets entangled in yours, how a mere glance at an item transports me back to a very specific moment in time, where an image- still or moving- is sparked in my mind.
The tiniest detail reminds me of you, your mere presence sent shrills down my spine.
It still does.
The way your essence is the centre of my nostalgia, that's what I miss.
I don't seem to miss people, I don't crave their faces.
YOU ARE READING
Words.
PoetryTo be completely honest, it's just a load of randomly plucked words from the air, infused together with some punctuation and their job is to represent the bunch of emotion I, - a tired, caffeine filled, late night worker- threw together in hopes tha...
