Why is it
I feel most alone
in bed with you,
then on my own.

You to me are warmth;
a kind of light that shows itself
in rays whenever you smile or speak.
I would say that you’re the sun,
but you’re sweeter then it’s shine
and your touch on my skin effects
me greater then that stars heat.
You ignite a kind of fire within me
that makes my insides feel as if
they are in some way melting.
I hope your summer stays because-
I don’t want to be cold again.

I can still feel his fingers
tap along to the beat,
hand nestled between
where my waist and hip meet;
it’s almost if he is trying
to make music of me.

His touch puts me in tune
and I’m an instrument
but only for his use,
because the way that boy
plays my body
is enough

to leave every inch
of it singing.

The sound of your voice,
inside of my mind

and the way that you laugh,
wide smiled; opened eyed

and your fingers entangling
themselves between mine

and your strong arms around me
holding me from behind

and the feel of your hair
paired with honest eyes

and the taste of your lips,
touched upon mine

and the rest of my skin always
somewhere to reside

and I’m scared, actually-
I’m ******* petrified

that soon I won’t
be able to remind

myself of how you look
sound asleep, by my side

and that maybe over time
we might forget everything

about one another,
all together.

Never in my life
has a boy kissed me like that.

Your hands trailed my body
so delicately, showing care

almost like I was a flower;
my parts petals

you were scared would wilt
if you pressed them too hard

and in that moment,
I realised-

that’s the only way
I wanted to be kissed again.

It's been so long
since I last kissed you,
that I think my lips

may have forgotten
how to move themselves
together with yours.

We use to call sweet torture
the way we'd tease each others bodies
until the early hours of the morning

but now for me, sweet torture is
how vividly I still remember
everything about you I'm longing to forget.