I'll admit to the many deeds he'd done,
But I won't blame him for a single one.
Even when the moon is replaced by the sun,
And through a new day, the night becomes undone.
I tried to communicate and speak,
But my courage is slowly growing weak.
It's been hours, days, and weeks-
Yet I fail to understand what he seeks.
Not when his touch trails my hair,
Then, within a blink, vanishes somewhere.
Onto where he stood I stare,
Wondering if this is the feeling of despair.
Maybe it's just my loneliness,
And him being the same. Yes, that makes sense.
I just wanted the comfort of heat,
The rythms of an alive heartbeat.
Onto the rough bark I rest my ear,
As if it was his chest, as if he was here.
Then to his presence I attempt to grow near,
Contrasting the days for him I harbored fear.
My chest tightens when I turn and there stands he,
The soft wind ruffling his raven hair while looking at me.
_.•●•._
A spontaneous fragment from my heart.
A poem from one of my books: Innocent
Speaker: Female
YOU ARE READING
Anaxiphilia
Poetry"Over my dead body you sadistically gaze; You still choose this, despite the many ways You could leave, but you only desire me to grieve."
