Touch my mind
Before touching my belt.
If you are able
To stretch your fingers
Across my constellations of thoughts
And blindly crawl
Through an abyss of rains,
I've already moaned your name.
I have tears and laughs
Tangled in the same ball of yarn,
Knit me a pretty scarf
So I won't hand you a cold heart.
You became a breath of fresh air
In an intoxicating world of hate,
And the hot flame
That curls my toes.
You cured a bruised body
With the trace of your music and tongue.
You imagined my world
Colliding with your words.
With bruised knees and sore arms,
you reached for my belt.
YOU ARE READING
Hurt, Pain, Regrets
Poetrywhy do we endure such pain, in such little time? {my rant of poems}
