Only strangers. No sex but arm around her body as they lay there. He talks about his family and all she can do is listen quietly laughing not wanting to be to loud scared the moment will end. He shivers as hot breath is upon his neck, lips near his chest. Soon the conversation turns to her. Hearing her voice sadden as family isn't so great for her. He finds himself tightening his grip on a girl he only just met not wanting anything traumatic to happen to her again. That night she falls asleep feeling safe in all that is the strangers arms but wakes to a new day to be greeted by someone who is far from a stranger.
YOU ARE READING
Idealistic
PoetryWho knows if you can even call it poetry. What I write is derived from what I observe from others, my brain and my experiences in this word.
