Her mouth tasted like
Warm caramel still melting
Cinnamon and everything you would
Assume was related to
cooking from scratch
And a fire that raged all night
She tasted like a home
That I wanted to bury myself
Inside and
Never leave to see
The outside world and it's
Harshness.
There was a warmth
At the base of her tongue
Stretching all the way down
To the depths of her lungs
That screamed for chastity
She was a cabin in the woods
That kept unfolding.
She was the house on the hill
That never stopped growing.
YOU ARE READING
Existent
PoetryHighest rank: #23 In poetry. A compilation of Poems about love, heart break, depression and everything in between really. Black, white, and of course, a dose of grey.
