We met only briefly, in the
first adorning rays of morning.
Four years in the making, our love.
Albeit never to last, theres only so much
love to give while being left empty in
return.
Unrequited, were the words you had said.
And yet, I remember the softest of your
touches, the gaze while we dove through
moonlit streets, the crinkles next to
your eyes.
Muffled words in car seats were our salvation,
our destiny, and our downfall.
It was her you were thinking of. Not me.
Her you lusted for. You pictured her eyes
so much you thought mine were hers that
morning in London.
Oh london boy, you were perfect.
Just not mine.
YOU ARE READING
Blackberry Thistles ✓
Poetrypoems as delicate as the fruit itself, and as thought-provoking as the sour aftertaste. All Rights Reserved. Copyright © 2019 Kate H. > third place winner of the gem-mers awards poetry section 2020
