Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2017
confession: i wish i had never let you in.

i kissed your best friend after witnessing a drunken bar fight and thought about the way your fingers slid skillfully through my hair in your 2 am secret-infested bed. i thought about the planets of this magnificent world while you held every single breath i attempted to take back from your crystallized eyes. your hands sent vibrations through my body and amongst the jumbled whispered words drowned in true blue music, i wonder what we lost and what we learnt amongst the engulfing darkness. every time i step into your room it feels like an ocean of familiarity, tainted with a slow beating heart that's begging for a companion that would never be me. time started flying by when the universe saw how absolutely enchanted i was with the way you drove your car, the way you grasped my neck when my moans screamed that they wanted more, the way those boys shot daggers of envy when you were seen beside me.
now, i scramble to place together the beautiful words you spoke to me when we lost our carelessness between ***** sours and silly **** rips because they were the only ones i believed, the smoke danced in the sky like gypsies riding the dawn of morning while we bathed in golden sun rays. the clouds told stories of our passionate demise.  i lay in my bed during the early morning hours before sunrise; before the last star in the pre-existing night sky vanishes and i think about you and what you could be doing. have you found something better? do you still dream about my silky, youthful skin? do her lips taste as ripe as mine?
these are questions i continue to entertain myself with. i let my mind flash back to when i had that pinot grigio in my hand and i watched your best friend perform upstage and i glanced over at you, your face without a word, nothing to be traced.

confession: it was too hard to love you.

-now what?

Written by
conceptcollection  22/F
   Doug Potter
Please log in to view and add comments on poems