I remember your orange shirt that I took. It was my favorite among all the colors you wear. Because it brings out the greens of your eyes. I remember taking them off of you, with hushed voices, trembling hands, and a tangerine scent. Your hands were cold to my touch. But your mouth wandered and burnt traces on my skin. I remember waking up the next day when the sun was barely there. Your legs were hugging mine, and your lashes fluttered with a sigh. Your lips bid me farewell that morning, but it took months before your body let me go.
YOU ARE READING
Trinkets
PoetryIf you want to read without the commitment, this is the perfect book for you. You can open it and read a few excerpts once in a while, or you can read it in one go. The entries here have various themes which may confuse readers as it confused the wr...