The orange hues seeping through my
windows takes me back to a summer evening
where we laid next to each other.
The same orange hues kissed your warm skin
for me to write letters of love
between the lines over your ribs.
The way you softly drew stars, circles and
geometric figures on my knuckles
without forgetting the number of sides
each shape had.
I will never forget how a man
with the coldest eyes has the warmest hands
to hold with a smile so bright
that it burns an image
into my eyes each time.
I know i can't reach out to call you,
but I will one day as you are the only one
saving me from hell of a crowd, even now.
Your name, your name, you.
I wish I could forget it but
it is every title of every song
that speaks of love, whose lyrics I fill
the cavity in my chest with.
Many unspoken things haunt me
on cold nights where I'm left with
stubborn thoughts, empty prayers and fear.
Fear always has a place for people
who have never known love.
It comes to me like a flood when I think
I no longer have your hands to entwine
mine with or your cold yet beautiful eyes
to see the world in.
I know I always talk about
your tired eyes and warm hands
because that's all I'm left with,
just memories and words.
Now, I have a little fight left in my heart
and much lesser to retreat
but it knows no better than
saying your name into the night,
like it always does.
YOU ARE READING
Sunflowers are grey
Poetry'Everyone hides behind their words. And that's exactly what I do.' "Sunflowers are grey" is my first-attempt-at-poetry collection. The poems potray a darker undertone on subjects like mental health, love, heartbreak, trauma, etc. P.S- Trigger warni...
