He slipped his hand into my hand
and I hated
myself
Hated the patterns I always fell into
He talked to me
He talked at me
To no fruition
For no part of me would listen
I close my eyes to listen to the water
the quiet water, gentle water, water keeping only the moon and
us as company
With my eyes closed tightly
He kissed me
He Stole a kiss from me
He stole from me
What is it. I would like to know
Such success at drawing so many in
Tempting them to touch, but no captivating prowess
like a venus flytrap with no teeth
Why am I always a stepping stone
Dec 30, 2012
Dec 30, 2012 at 12:16 AM UTC
He slipped his hand into my hand
and I hated
myself
Hated the patterns I always fell into
He talked to me
He talked at me
To no fruition
For no part of me would listen
I close my eyes to listen to the water
the quiet water, gentle water, water keeping only the moon and
us as company
With my eyes closed tightly
He kissed me
He Stole a kiss from me
He stole from me
What is it. I would like to know
Such success at drawing so many in
Tempting them to touch, but no captivating prowess
like a venus flytrap with no teeth
Why am I always a stepping stone