she smells sweet like peaches,
smooth like silk
her eyes warm like microwaved milk,
her smiling and blushing
but she'll never like mine,
even when our hands intertwine
she doesn't like my silk, she's fond of the prickly thorns and bleeding hands,
she won't share with anyone her plans
i'd protect her from anything
she doesn't want my protecting.
i couldn't save her from blood that comes from her hands
'cause i was to afraid to say, "i like your silk."
April 11, 2017
YOU ARE READING
INSINUATION OF TREPIDATION
Poetry(PART 2) first, comes the tentacles of the fear, naivety, and greed that wrap around our necks. then, comes the blades of courage that prevent them from suffocating us. trep·i·da·tion trepəˈdāSH(ə)n/ noun a feeling of fear or agitation about someth...
