Its 3 am
His lips brush against my skin
Leaving traces across my lower lip
He speaks my name like it's a hymn, I blush
And now I crave his touch
We've had all night to talk
We've spoken empty verses
I laugh, he curses
Now under the dim light
I know this wrong feels right
Then the walls close in
I know in my heart that it's him
We explore each other bodies
Never have I felt so naughty
Is this what it feels like to be sober?
It's six am, the night is over.
YOU ARE READING
"In my Memories" Poetry for (#WATTY'S 2019)
PoésieMy Poetry I'm submitting for the poetry award in the 2019 Watty awards. This is all deeply personal to me, and I'm taking a step out of my comfort zone to share this with you. I hope you can connect to it, Come read my memories.
