Take Me Home (Original Poems)

Softly. Slowly. - Poem 88

The soft glow of the screen illuminates their silhouettes, her hand upon his chest.

The window cracked, allowing the smoke to escape from the air.

Long drown breaths to inhale the smoke filled the room with a sound other than the chatter of the tv.

His back lay flat against the bed as her body was turned to face his.

The warmth of his skin clashed with the cool chill of the winter air entering through the window.

Before long, she closes her eyes, finding her peace in the dark.

He lied still, never a breath too heavy.

Her breath has slowed, a steady beat is what her heart holds.

His hands find her back, pressing his fingers against her spine, making her slide closer to him.

His eyes sting with the acid, watching her sleeping face.

Lifting her with a gentle hand, he holds her close to his body as his eyes bleed the words he can never say.

She stirs and wakes in confusion.

He whips the tears from his eyes, turning away from her sleepy eyes.

Her soft hands find his unshaved face, caressing his tear-streaked cheeks with a sad smile.

Her heart was beating, but for who, he did not know.

When he didn't smile back, she closed in on him.

She took his face in her hands, inches away from each other.

Her eyes were not met with love, but sorrow

Were they like magnets that repel?

Her eyes stray from him to the floor as her hands fall away from his face

His hands grip her face, meeting his lips with hers.

Softly.

Slowly.

They were falling apart.