To be Sexy
You don't need to strip naked in front of me for you to be called sexy.
Lay down beside me under the night sky with the stars and moon watching us.
Tell me your greatest fears. Tell me what keeps you awake at night.
Tell me which do you prefer between iced coffee or the other one.
Tell me what do you see when you look at the trees.
Tell me what's the worst thing you ever done. Tell me your flaws. Tell me your dreams.
You don't need to wear a dress that has a long slit showing your bare legs for you to be called sexy.
Tell me about your favorite book. Tell me how you were fooled because you thought Hermione was for Harry. Tell me your favorite sonnet of Shakespeare and how does it affects you.
Tell me how you end up this way. Tell me what happened when you were younger. Tell me the tragedies that led you to the person I am talking to right now.
You don't need to wear a lipstick as red as my blood for you to be called hot.
Tell me about your favorite food. Tell me about your mother. Tell me about your dad and how he'd inspire you. Tell me about the countries that you wanted to visit—how Japan seems fun but you prefer to go to Greece first.
Tell me about your name. Tell me about your pain. Let me see your tears as you tell me. Let me wipe those away. Let me.
No, you don't need to strip naked in front of me for you to be called sexy, just stare at my eyes then smile and I swear, you'd find me on my knees begging for you to stay.
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YOU ARE READING
He Who Cried Words
PoetryYou made my eyes cry but never of tears. You stabbed my chest but it never made me bleed. When you broke me apart, you just gave life to an art. When you broke my heart, you only fueled me to write. -E. Pleuvoir Cover made with canva
