Hello again! this Is My poem so please don't copy it!
Finger tips brush my arms,
'It's cold' you tell me
I turn away and smile
Your as blunt as a knife,
that thought makes my
chest bubble with silent
laughter
Your hands glow with a
Warmth unlike any other has
felt and it chases the chills
from my bones
You take my hand in yours
and guide me to your room
My heart pounds in my chest
I don't mind the freaky
mask sitting in the Corner
of your room
After all it was Halloween Night
and your fingers move like paint brushes
my skin your canvas
the shudder that runs down my back
makes me want one thing I could never own
your simple phrase, because it's cold
