Fiddling with the
silver locket around
my neck has become
a reflex,
a habit
whenever I sense your
presence within
a five foot
radius of me.
I try to calm my nerves
with the touch of
cool metal
gliding across
my dampened
fingertips, but
it's recently
occurred to me that
no matter what
precautions I take,
or matters I put
into perspective
you were,
you are,
and will always be
everything I want
and
everything
I can't have.
YOU ARE READING
Specks Of Stardust #Wattys2015
Poetry❝ And when midnight strikes and the ink spills through the page, all that you are becomes stardust. ❞ In which a girl writes about the words unspoken, the feelings unresolved, the memories unforgotten, and the boy who caused them all.
