As I held your warm hand
in the winter,
I knew what a home
felt like.
Drinking hot chocolate
nigh the fireplace,
eating warm cookies
with the cinnamon smell in the air.
It was a warm, comfy place
as I pulled you in,
it made my heart pace
as I touched your skin.
There was nothing to compare
to the bond we had,
it was a miraculous occurrence
for the kindness you gave.
You would be there
at my worst,
you would be there
at my best.
But,
there was one thing
that you wouldn't be.
You wouldn't be there
when I told you my feelings
since your heart
had fallen for somebody else.
It was a deceptive illusion
for implying your affection
as a reason to hold on.
I had been fooled
and I still
chose to stay
to be a friend than a lover,
because I knew
from the first time
we were not meant to be
together.
YOU ARE READING
Dusty Ink.
PoetryThis is where my soul hides. It is a book full of words that combines into an art. My only runaway mess of reality. It is a pack of love, heartbreak, and the dark side of me put into one. So, here I scream my thoughts, will you feel my scars?
