His golden hair shimmers in the sunlight,
Diamonds crystalize, displays his beauty.
His laughter like chimes on a misty night,
All of which I can call him my cutie.
Dimples flutter on his cheeks, they appear
like a sunrise in the early morning.
In his sweet soft voice waking up: Honey, dear,
if you would be so kind to stop snoring.
His eyes of a mossy swamp, stare into
a dark muddy land. A tender smile, touches
my sincere skin, how does he do this to
me. When I've been in repulse's clutches.
His hand molds deep on my heart, one soft moan.
Life in photographs, I lay on his stone.
YOU ARE READING
Swirls | {Poems}
PoetryLetters turns to words and words turns into sentences. All thought process, questions and experiences to share and grow from. ⤖ poem collection ⬻
