the way your fingers
delicately trace over mine,
makes me feel
as though our hearts really do beat to the same tune.
the soft touch
of your lips on mine
could make me believe you are made of wine -
for I am drunk on you
and the way you taste,
the way your thumb dances
around my face.
for I love you and you love I,
May we never part -
and in death be us life.
YOU ARE READING
enigmatic
Poetryen·ig·mat·ic /ˌenəɡˈmadik/ adjective difficult to interpret or understand; mysterious. Just a collection of my shitty writing I like to call poetry. How unfortunate. (I am also rather edgy and depressed here so tw for some people but I promise I'm a...
