you've touched my heart that stirs, forever for you like creamer in coffee, honey in tea
you've touched the insides of my body, with those delicate hands, carving me pink and red
you've touched my skin that shivers in your absence and quakes in your presence
you've touched my hands that grow in yours and seek what i cannot see
you've touched my head, a barren place that runs on you, and melody and pink pills
YOU ARE READING
𝚍𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚌
Poetrystatic stat·ic ˈstat-ik. adjective characterized by a lack of movement or change trigger warning: read at your own risk! | just an unnecessarily long collection of me trying to get over my feelings
