I realise as each day goes by another invisible tether to him rights itself and I feel myself get more needy, more urging for his touch. Even his presence seems to sooth me.
I'm not sure if I should be contently accepting of this or desperate for an escape-the fear of commitment edging forward.
YOU ARE READING
For the weak.
PoetryA collection of all the poems/short pieces of writing, I've written and can find. Topics/genres varying.
