isn't it crazy that -
that it's a week before -
before a year in your arms -
arms that have kept me safe
arms that leave me absolutely breathless
hands that grasp me in a way
making me shiver and yearn for the touch as it brings
a new kind of ecstasy
down on my knees
underneath as you exhale, swirl, kiss- love.
so long that it has nearly been 365 days
five hundred twenty five thousand
six hundred minutes
that long since we've been together
ever since that stupid line -
will you?
that was easy, see, like staples.
what was i thinking
what you must have thought
yet we've stayed
yet we've grown
yet we've lost
and we've loved-
the mischeif forevermore.
YOU ARE READING
philophobia
Poetryit isn't always as it seems. first breaths of love, first breaks of hearts, first year. October 2013 - May 2015
