the twelfth time that night she tells you she loves between airs of drunk
and you just glaze over her tempting locks of hair that fly over her shoulders
her face is hidden in the light of night with only the chalk white road to taunt her
together your arms are wrapped together like a vine does a tree
and the pressure of both your weight together start to drag you down
with worried eyes she caresses her lips against your skin again and again
it feeds your ever-growing ego like the sun when it falls in love with an autumn afternoon
and you wish to retreat away with her thoughts into the same shadow that dresses her
but instead the dark grants you the girl that you once loved for all the wrong reasons
YOU ARE READING
𝚍𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚌
Poetrystatic stat·ic ˈstat-ik. adjective characterized by a lack of movement or change trigger warning: read at your own risk! | just an unnecessarily long collection of me trying to get over my feelings
