I woke up with your name on my lips
And dried tears on my face, craving you.
There's the shape of you in me, scotched in gold.
My body calls for you. A place I cannot name.
Are you playing me? If you are, I'll be your cello.
Obedient, servile. I'll sing for you when you pluck my strings.
I want you in a manner I can't describe.
Maybe the fresco on the Earl's ceiling. It hurts. I hurt.
Does it have to be this way? I resume
Knitting the tapestry, humming our song. Aching for you.
YOU ARE READING
𝔏𝔦𝔟𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 | ✔
Poetry🌟 A Wattpad Featured Story 🌟 ❝It's time to set me free. ❞ What readers say: ❝I read this, and I realized how beautiful you really are. ❞ ❝This is brutally damn awesome! Can you get any better? ❞ ❝You have mastered the art of writing. Continue to w...
