The ticking of the clock,
It's so mechanical.
I just want to hear your breathing,
From the bed,
On the opposite side of our room.
The ticking of that clock,
It's so cold, so inhuman.
I just want to hear your warm breaths,
That human activity,
That machines can't perfectly replicate,
Coming from your bed.
The ticking of that stupid clock,
It's so monotonous.
I just want hear your breathing,
Sure, each little exhalation,
May sound identical to the last,
But, they aren't,
They all sound just slightly different,
To me.
I want to hear it in the air,
Coming from your bed,
On the opposite side of the room.
But, it isn't here this week.
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Just A Mess
PoésieI'm not too sure as to what this is, but I often get bored and lost in my thoughts, so why not write them out? As I wrote I created poetic sentences, lines and phrases. So, I hope they can be enjoyed despite their mainly heavy topics. This book cove...
