the lines on our hands
mingle with the
roughness of the fibre
of our skins
*talking of touches
long spent*
-
there are grooves decorating
our feet
our soles are flattened
only reminders of the places we've been
-
crinkles beside our mouth and eyes
*they speak
of smiles
to faces
whisper of tears
in air*
-
sometimes
we forget
we drift
*and just like the last time,
we're drawn into the story that never finished
- a story never told*
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 12:19 PM UTC
the lines on our hands
mingle with the
roughness of the fibre
of our skins
*talking of touches
long spent*
-
there are grooves decorating
our feet
our soles are flattened
only reminders of the places we've been
-
crinkles beside our mouth and eyes
*they speak
of smiles
to faces
whisper of tears
in air*
-
sometimes
we forget
we drift
*and just like the last time,
we're drawn into the story that never finished
- a story never told*
My response to the incomparable Belle B's poem, (Want) a choice: http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1045032/want-a-choice/
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