he stood face to face
with my demons
and he flinched.
- you should've believed me
and maybe this isn't poetry
per se,
but putting in words,
acknowledging
facing
and breathing the same air as
the most guttural of human emotions.
that is the heart of expression, isn't it?
he keeps
e t c h i n g
his love
onto my thighs
until craving him
becomes muscle memory.
YOU ARE READING
ruby
Poetrypoems about the next stage of my life, hopefully about new experiences but also about hanging onto something the heart has desperately longed for and isn't quite ready to give up
