It's wrong
And I know it's wrong
He's untouchable
Out of reach
Something I can't have
He can never know
But it consumes me
The idea of holding him close
His hand in mine
My head on his shoulder
But it's in my head
It's not real
He's sat next to me
I'm passing the joint
Letting my fingers graze his
As the scent lingers
Of epic fresh, cigarettes and spliffs
YOU ARE READING
poems by me
PoetryJust a bit of poetry I've written over a few years so dont judge it too harshly. Plus it does get better as you go on (in my opinion). PLEASE LOOK AT THIS BEFORE READING!!!! If you know me in real life and choose to read this please dont show people...
