In your smile. In your laugh, when it sounds just like mine. In your ears in your eyes, in your pretty pink mouth.
In the perfume you wear and when I asked you that day. So chic, so sweet, so Jean Paul Gaultier.
In your hair, in your hands. And everything that's around. In your steps. In your bets on how we would end.
In your walk, in your talk. But mostly in your "thinking of". In the dreams you don't share, the ones you can't stand.
YOU ARE READING
Flowers of my life
PoetryPoems. Based on women that came (but eventually left, too) into my life to stay forever. Even tho, the roots of these flowers are fed on unrequited love, they are enduring and gorgeously painful.
