I think I should pinch myself. The tenacious touch of your soft fingers against my scripted skin feels godly. These sensations have not been put down in any denotation of human kind's capability to feel. Those brush like movements stun me, you paint a picture in my mind that this world is of some different time. Am I dreaming?
When you touch me, every puzzle corrupted inside of me suddenly comes together. This rush of abandonment and fear, every misconception that my heart has endeared, simply discontents. You- are the justification of the crisis that I have suffered. Every cell that caresses my skin so precariously, is like an individual star and together, your hands alone make up the infinity of the masses of infinity.
And what a delirium it could be, that a girl as igniting as you, would love a girl, as intolerably dull,
as me?
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.
