His lips are like honey,
kissed once and you are addicted.
He touches my thighs with light hands, they are so rough and worn. Yet, he knows how to be gentle on my sensitive soul.
I fall into bliss with him, an ever so slow descent. It builds up like a reckless serenade. He loves like we're one time lovers, every single day.
His smile is like a crescent moon in human form, I can touch him and feel him. He is beneath my hands, but I feel as though he's so high in the sky.
I would say my lover, but he is not just a mere lover. No, he is so much more. In words I can't describe, he IS my world.
I know I say I've been hurt, and I have. I've loved and I have lost, but the pain seems to slip away with honey kisses and smiles that are worth more than a crescent moon.
(Typically I don't write notes, but here I am writing a poem that isn't sad. Literally only one freaking person will get the title and if you don't, @ me and I will fight you.)
YOU ARE READING
The Trees Talk
PoetryThe trees talk, they know what goes through your mind. The trees, they scream. +previously Perfection and Deception+
