Lick me like an ice cream cone
Anything rather than being alone
I knew I wasn't ready
But your hands were so steady
I felt too young; it didn't seem fair
But I wasn't complaining with my hands in your hair
I told you to stop
But you put me on top
Your hand over my mouth so I couldn't talk
It wasn't until after I noticed the floor
My phone kicked halfway to the door
YOU ARE READING
Messages I Never Sent
PoetryJust a compilation of my thoughts. From messages I wrote but backed out of sending, to poetry I wrote on the spur of the moment.
