Since this summer,
when we met and you awoke Lily,
you've been all I can write about.
Every time I hear music that strums the part of my soul that's yours,
I'm never satisfied when it ends,
and I crave more.
Through it, I
experience
the sparks of your touch
and your fingertips falling between mine and interlocking on midnight car rides nowhere.
I get to remember
how it felt
when you
wrapped your sure arms around my waist
like you wanted to
kiss my every cell ...
How warm your chest smelled and how perfect you felt against me.
How unafraid you were to hold my gaze with yours, connecting our souls, your eyes calling out for me, for something to anchor you.
Something that felt like home.
I can't speak for you
but
this is what you felt like to me.
Home.
And
On those final days,
I grabbed your arm because
I knew
I was
gonna need some help getting over you.
YOU ARE READING
22 & Learning Poetry Collection: Curiously Beautiful
PoetryBeing vulnerable is one of the scariest things any human being can do; to unfasten the armor reinforced by a lifetime of difficult lessons, strip down to nothing but the fine curves of one's existence, and bare the scars of the soul in the sincerity...
