your hand stroking softly
through my hair
pull me closer to you
touch my cheek
pure and soft
ready to kiss
but before our lips can touch
i open my eyes
and lay here all alone
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry || withered roses
Poesíabecause sometimes i want to write the shit down that goes trough my head
