My hand falls on his shoulder,
my entire being begs to melt into him
Our bodies begin to sway and he suddenly becomes my only anchor,
my only light
my only hope,
my only pleasurable pain
keeping me afloat,
in this never ending swirling storm.
My only tether to this fickle world,
is him,
and I know it is foolish to say
but he is warm rain on my skin.
I am but shattered glass
but he picks me up anyway.
At times I crumble quite low,
but his eyes remind me I am not alone,
and his lips tell me so.
Sometimes it feels as though I shouldn't dare to explain how much I love you.
YOU ARE READING
My Only Language is Words
Random"It played out so perfectly, so full, so wonderous... but then I woke up". ~~~~ "The blade of imagination is a force to be reckoned with"~~~~ Somewhat insignificant rambles~ Also called "poetry" I suppose
