Her eyes ripping open my soul, Her hands around my throat tight, closed. No words can escape. She took away my breath and within those breaths words unspoken that would sway a ship man off of his boat. I could feel the tingle of space between her lips the gap i wish to fill. Like thorns on a rose I could not touch her. Like a work of art I stood from a respectable distance staring so deeply before I could fall too far in. To talk about her is to talk about the way flowers bloom. To ask about her is to ask if the sun has come up, and to love her is impossible.
YOU ARE READING
Don't forget to water the roses
PoetryPoetry for The weary, for the undecided and "can't hide it" for the somedays and will be's for the love struck and the newbies. These words will flood your mind with inspiration, how to learn to forgive, and love. Not just someone else but yourself.
