unspoken

𝙻𝚎𝚝'𝚜 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛

One thing I could think of you was your hair.
It was the way it looked, all straight and prickly,
but just as soft--a feather like--smooth and silky.

I imagined how it moved sideways as the wind blows.
Made me think of a forest, swaying gently, welcoming, feels like home.

I could taste the sweetness, strands on my mouth,
Remembering the smell, that familiar scent of a body soap you unapologetically scraped on it.

I wonder if you knew, but I've riddled a bunch of poems in every thread as my fingers slipped through,

Stroking till you calm down and wash away all the horrors, until sleep rest upon you.

I could only remember your hair,
that goddamn hair,
and how it screams
every bit of you.