It's strange
Taking your hand again
The waves of distant warmth that wash over me in the tight hold of your arms
The touch and texture,
temperature and taste,
So familiar but so far away
Drawing the song from your lips I'd forgotten,
I trace the path of your palm,
Hike the hill of your arm,
Losing myself in the roads I once knew,
The never-ending pulses and the shades, lines, and hues,
that guide me
up, over the mountain of your shoulder
Navigating the fragile fabric of your neck
I wander and roam
Till I find my way home.
There's a rush,
And a watercolour flush that slowly spreads over miles of skin ready to explore -
- A promise of more -
Skin that holds everything
Oceans of unknown
And nothing
A blank canvas
I wanted to drown myself in the emotions I hadn't felt in years
But as I begin to sink
I want to take a pen
And draw my journey on your body
In a midnight of ink.
YOU ARE READING
have a little faith
Poetry"between fallen angels and shooting stars i'm losing sleep tonight" {cmg} - some poems i wrote. please enjoy x
