Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
The smell of your scent etched on my skin, the touch of your lips ignites my bones. Touch me with words to remind me that I am alive. Hold me, gently to make me feel I'm loved. For love is the language we spoke that filled our void.
0
Jun 2, 2019
Jun 2, 2019 at 10:40 AM UTC
A M O R
The smell of your scent etched on my skin, the touch of your lips ignites my bones. Touch me with words to remind me that I am alive. Hold me, gently to make me feel I'm loved. For love is the language we spoke that filled our void.
“I would rather die of passion than of boredom.” ~ Vincent Van Gogh
RitzWrites
Written by
Jun 2, 2019
Jun 2, 2019 at 10:40 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem