I will not write about you.
I will not write about how you send me to
Places I have not been to in quite a while
With words that revive the comatosed
Butterflies in my stomach
Nor will I write about how your hand behind
My back sends goosebumps to my heart
Up and down like strumming guitar strings
A song I would not want to end
I will not write about how you caress my thigh
Making me wish the hands of time would stop
For a moment, so that yours would still be on me
How your chin is like a puzzle piece
That finds its way perfectly upon my
Shoulder as we ride up the escalator
I will not mention how many times I have wished it
Was not "you and me", but "us"
No, I will not write about all of that.
I will not write about you.
I will never write about you.
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 12:36 PM UTC
I will not write about you.
I will not write about how you send me to
Places I have not been to in quite a while
With words that revive the comatosed
Butterflies in my stomach
Nor will I write about how your hand behind
My back sends goosebumps to my heart
Up and down like strumming guitar strings
A song I would not want to end
I will not write about how you caress my thigh
Making me wish the hands of time would stop
For a moment, so that yours would still be on me
How your chin is like a puzzle piece
That finds its way perfectly upon my
Shoulder as we ride up the escalator
I will not mention how many times I have wished it
Was not "you and me", but "us"
No, I will not write about all of that.
I will not write about you.
I will never write about you.