My lips are deprived with
That ruthless drink we have
Spent our evening
Endorsing sensually. Though,
My eyes find comfort in
The bedroom of yours
So soft and thoughtless,
You turn, hurt mostly, to look
Away our feelings
We create. Gracefully,
The soothing thoughts burst
Into conjunction as you
Flirt your cute words with
A cherry tied on
Your tongue. Darling, bite
Your pretty lips again, please.
YOU ARE READING
Hiraeth
Poetry(n). A blend of homesickness, nostalgia and deep longing for something, especially one's home in Wales; an ode to the loss of our homeland, our language and our traditions. •I update this quite infrequently :(•
