I like our love better on paper.
The way that you talk to me in written sentences,
Is like the smell of an old book with a cup of tea, in the early morning light,
warm and inviting yet unknow and frightening.
Our hands, they seem to fit with eachother on paper
and our hearts seem to beat as one.
Written in words you always say you love me
and I say that same to you too.
But when the words and letters end,
your hands are too big for mine to hold
and you talk like a vengeful snake, lurking in the dusk.
So I only tell you that I love you,
with words, in my notebook that's only for me to see.
YOU ARE READING
Ashes to ashes
PoesíaA collection of short poems about being a teenager in the modern world, losing parts of yourself to others and loving some with every cell in your body, realizing that sometimes you change but that doesn't mean the world changes too.
