Ever so slightly
your fingertips
traced the edges
of my dusty
hardback on
the wooden
table, so tenderly,
so slowly,
I could swear
your touch was
secretly seeking
forgiveness from
those beige pages,
as if you knew all
along that you
were the cause
of their sorrow.
and I, almost
ashamed, looked
at the floor
refusing to make
eye contact, with
the man who
has my soul
tangled between
the gaps of his
bare hand .
so I heard you,
before I saw you,
for even this
painful period of
separation
couldn't change
the way the sound
of your footsteps,
matched the rhythm
of my heartbeats.
your fragrance that
remind me of
sunshine and sand,
mingled with the
air, and leisurely
filled my stiff lungs,
pushing them to
moan in pure
ecstasy.
your fingers lifted
my chin, forcing
my eyes to meet
your warm ones
that used to hold
a gentle promise,
and making me
see what I was
afraid of seeing
the most
.
.
.
'Regret'
YOU ARE READING
Dried petals
Poetry"and I find myself tucking your smile in the space that lies between every letter .for babe , if I can't keep you by my side ,then I'll lock you in each poem these hands write down ."_Aya Highest rank #43 in poetry on 23/7/2017 .
