Two simple people
me and you
Meeting and greeting the world,
which does not have a clue.
A clue to the things we do in your car,
A clue to the things that tend to leave a mark.
A mark is a symbol,
a testimony to those nights,
we spent in the front seat hidden from the world
under the short-circuited street light.
Things go fast or sometimes slow
We aren't really sane,
So what's the issue!
We have our own world inside that car
the foggy glass as our shield
and the music system as our only witness.
The blush that covers my face
when you touch me everywhere
The tingles I get
when you kiss me there.
The warmth I feel when I
caress your head
The excitement I feel when
you hold my hands.
The car becomes our titanic
with me being Rose and you being Jack.
The sounds that I make
can easily attest that fact.
You were 'Mr. Touch-me-not' and I was 'Cactus'
but on that backseat, we become an alter-ego of ourselves.
It is our little secret,
our sacred vow.
Its our little paradise
A hidden town.
Two simple people
me and you
Meeting and greeting the world,
which does not have a clue.
YOU ARE READING
PillowTalk: A Collection of Poems
PoetryPillow Talk is a collection of thoughts and jumble of emotions that you feel at night when you are left to your own devices. Each poem talks about a new emotion, a new situation and a new feeling.
