Distracted
I forgot the stories he told me
but remembered how he said them
with his face so beautiful; voice so serene
and I was too mesmerized to even listen
I forgot the names he told me
of the women he used to love in the past
for I was too caught up with my fantasies
upon staring at his dreamy pair of eyes
I forgot the tales he told me
but remembered how he said them—
his lips wrapping up all my dreams
in the soul of his and the face of him
Perhaps this was odd for a woman of nineteen
to be caught up with you and distracted by this
YOU ARE READING
Metaphors Beneath the Riptides
Poetry"Your I-love-you was like a scribble in a sand- At first it was there then next it was not" Metaphors beneath the Riptides An Anthology By Eos Pleuvoir 2020 Cover Made with Canva
