You're smoke;
you touch him and he feels you everywhere.
You ignited a flame
and maybe you're the smoke from the wildfire you caused.
He's burning and saying it feels good because he swears it's the cost of being this close to the sun.
You're illusive and everyone is anticipating your disappearance, while every moment you're there isn't enough because he needs you closer.
When he said he wanted a smoke,
he meant he wanted you.
You make the world around him go hazy,
but a beautiful haziness like that of a summer afternoon,
where all that is in focus is you.
He watches the sun seep through the curtains to light your face, while the moon illuminated you just an hour ago.
The warmth washing over your cheekbones erases the shadows that had previously been cast by the moon and he swears he's never seen a guy be that pretty before.
He's skillfully filling his lungs with you,
unable to stop or realize what it means to have you seeping into his cells.
You think he's too high to be comprehensive whilst he's repeating over and over that you're beautiful, but there aren't any other words.
He doesn't want a joint between his lips,
he wants you against his lips;
find a way to be there,
find a way to stay.
YOU ARE READING
Pondering
PoetryI write because emotion spills out of me. This is a collection of my poems and other writing. "My words are tiny pieces of me, each one specially woven just for you. And I will give, and give, and give, and give, until I am nothing and I become your...
