sometimes i crave the onset of love more than the feeling itself.
the tender snippets of what could be,
glimpses that fill your heart with hope
and make your lungs feel weightless.
lingering eye contact and bottom lips chewed off,
candid smirks and hands grazing,
stolen glances and sweaty palms.
maybe if i can have a sip of what's to come then i'll be drunk enough on the hope that i'll forget my thirst for love.
YOU ARE READING
Small Talk
Poetry❝ we're just fumbling through the grey, trying to find a heart that's not walking away. ❞ [ a collection of drabbles, musings and poetry: sometimes i like to pretend that i can write poetry when there's things i want to get off my chest ]
