From here to you I say
Writing is your healing,
Never let it get away.

Your presence,
sending rays of warmth
like the sun from above
but yet so close

Your touch,
coating me in eagerness
leaving no inch of me unloved
but yet not close enough  

Your kisses,
greedily demanding
The rest of me to fall
out of this world

How do I know
what I want,
when I can do
all I want
and how do I know
what I can
if I want all

I can do.

If it is all just an illusion
No objectivity exists
It’s all in our minds
Who says wrong or right is present?

Writing is my safety net,
That I abandon far too often,
In the fear of finding answers
Of the inevitable truth hidden,
Behind the well protected walls,
One would call anxiety