Pale skin, blue eyes, her hair a dirty blonde. Then again I don't know the difference between regular, and dirty blonde. I need to say what I can in order to try and move past. I don't know if I can though. Your skin, soft as silk. My dreams consist of light curtains falling from the sides of the rectangular bed. Ever so softly whisking in the air. The sunlight not being blocked nor being let past. It's shining through, making you glow. You smile that sweet smile. My hart beats faster and faster. You take my hand and pull me in to your makeshift cave of light, and pillows. The lips you clash into mine taste like honey. The eyes that were a light blue, reflect my darker skin and change to a darker blue. You're body makes mine shiver. Shiver in nervousness, I feel your fingertips gliding down my arms, my back. My shirt hangs low as I crawl over you. If I wasn't taught this feeling. I wouldn't feeling the aftermath called heartbreak... when my dream disappears.
YOU ARE READING
Letters To The Writer: Volume 1
PoetryJust me writing poems, can be sad, can be happy, matters about he day and what I'm writing about. This is really for me but if you like it a share, vote, comment would be much appreciated, thank you.
