What brought you to last February?
March?
April?
The soft voice
The small laugh near your ear
Her yellow skin on your loin
Her ring fingers on your hair
Fragrance of her neck
Softness of her stomach and lips
Pink tongue
Black eyes
All of her curves.
Herself.
Her soul..
Her affection..
Her longing..
Oh no, God knows you're sure of that time.
It feels real and an honor for her, giving all the beauty of her soul to you.
Then what are you asking now?
The universe remember when you saw her eyes earnestly and there were no doubts about her words.
You saw her face and there was no uncertainty in her whisper.
Then what are you asking now?
Where is she
Where is she
Who is she?
You squealed not willingly
She screamed not willingly
How even the most beautiful things are easily broken.
What brought you to last July?
August?
September?
That soft voice,
that little mourning near your ear.
Her favorit desolate night
The lovely story of her knight
Poignancy in her chest
Her teary eyes
Her prayer
The cold heart
The cold tears
Herself.
Her soul..
Her affection..
Her longing..
Then why do you ask?
Even though the answer is you.
YOU ARE READING
The Art of Us
Random❝ This is how i make the bitter look exhilarating. ❞ ❨#2 in Poetic Justice, March 2019❩ (#3 in The Cold, May 2020) (#1 in The Cold, June 2020)
