I remember when I lay with you, tangled in the thick white sheets (that smothered thoughts of escape like snow over the thick mountain rock).
I didn't realise what you wanted from me,
I didn't conceptualise your lust.
My fantasies were idle, and drifted into my head back then.
When my feet hit that oak floor and I strode to the exit, you said words that still stick to me (“Don't you want to sleep in with me?”)
Your seductive voice was laced with notes of fantasy.
And so I slipped into that bed and watched you stare at me.
But I was too afraid to act on concealed love.
So I shut my eyes.
Like white noise, your love surpassed me.
I miss that.
I miss you
The you before them.
******
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YOU ARE READING
A Culmination Of Realities
PoetryAs we float through life, victimized by circumstance and stalked by rumours, we come to understand that false rumours have opposites: realities. These are the realities to which this book is dedicated. These realities share only truth, for some are...
