It's funny how you could be sweltering,
the sun beating down on your skin
until practically buckets of sweat drip down from your chin.
Then it turns to night,
and I cannot get warm.
You receive the warmest kisses from the moon
A hot summer night, windows cracked
Nothing but a thin sheet covers you,
and its too hot to blink.
Yet still, not warm enough
Possibly what I lack is your hold
True warmth comes from heated bodies.
Ones filled with passion,
ones to make me whole.
I long for your arms, any arms
To take me, swoop me into my dreams,
until the heat is suffocating.
The warmth grasps at my knees,
my head, my arms.
My arms tangled in yours.
No more lost time for waiting.
YOU ARE READING
Begging In The Abyss
PoesíaIf you would enjoy reading about the abyss of life, love, hope and all else in the form of poetry, well then I think you've found the right place.
