The way she looks at me
With such mischief and humor,
I swear she is looking right past my eyes
Into my mind,
That she can feel the pounding in my heart
Resonating all throughout me,
And that she sees that the butterflies have migrated
from my stomach
To my entire body.
YOU ARE READING
Goodbye, Pastel
PoetryI wonder is you can feel it too- The discrete pockets of sunlight Slipping through on dreary days; It warms my skin and fuels my smile. I'll keep the garden, After all. {Sequel to Fake Flowers}
