I cling to your arm,
my mind spinning,
unsure if I should slap you
across the face
but your voice sends
a warm chill down my spine
as you support my weight.
Mom was going to freak
that I went outside and
not only got a guy
but a pair of eyes.
She's been waiting
for a guy to come my way,
to pull me out of my shell.
"You are cruel,"
I mutter, but I give you directions
to my door all the same.
Once inside,
my mom fawns over
you and doesn't even flinch
when you asked to see
me to my room.
ESTÁ A LER
Things Unseen
PoesiaThe world is a beautiful place but it has grown strangely repetitive and dull in its constant beauty. Novel in verse. Unfinished #3 Co-written by s.m. brooks and n.m. w. 2015.