I'm wrapped in a comfort
that I can barely explain.
The words I have for you,
dribble out of my mouth,
like beads slipping off their string,
one by one by one.
I'm scattered with you, but something about it makes me feel whole.
There's an ease into it
like nothing else matters.
your fingers, intertwined in mine
as if this was always meant to be,
like this is what was to become.
what is it that you make me feel?
is this what they sing about?
is this what I thought I knew?
there isn't anywhere else
I'd rather go
there isn't anyone else
You could ever be
YOU ARE READING
the inevitable
Poetryunderestimate, unfold, understand. the third installment from words better left unspoken
