mixed signals in my
forearms racing tampering with
my pulse
this ache was born but dies with you i
wish i could explain
i'd never felt
my bones agree with anything but
sleep but when your
finger tips
almost
traced my lips they
screeched their bold consent
"let him in oh let him in
let him have what's left"
Sep 25, 2017
Sep 25, 2017 at 9:32 PM UTC
mixed signals in my
forearms racing tampering with
my pulse
this ache was born but dies with you i
wish i could explain
i'd never felt
my bones agree with anything but
sleep but when your
finger tips
almost
traced my lips they
screeched their bold consent
"let him in oh let him in
let him have what's left"
Request permission to use this poem