Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2021
How to talk about the inexplicable
or feel that what's forbidden.
I should be running away from you
and you should've never been here,
I must be crazy or wrong,
to not think and just act.

But your eyes feel like home...

The timing is wrong,
and so are the facts.
you are broken inside,
scared and numb.
I'm shattered in pieces,
misplaced and dumb.

Every where I look for sense
all the arrows point the other way,
the logic behind the all
the tremor of the unknown.

But your lips taste so sweet and whole...

Like the breeze that runs through the broken dreams
in a path built from pain and dust,
the idea of your essence being far away
makes my hands shake and my heart stop.

In a horizon where the sky is blue
where the sand on my feet is purple,
with a slow pace I move
through the scars and empty clues.
I've never searched for you,
yet here you are,
you make want to die of misfortune
for right now, is you I can't have.

But your skins feels so warm, and true...

I get lost in a sea of thoughts
when I stare at you I dream of nothing,
like an empty jar of hope
because next you there is everything
I can't wish for more.

Now you went away to your life
I'm trying to go away from mine,
yet the angels look down on us
and ask for those eyes back,
you took them from heaven itself,
and never have I seen such
like a child in a park
or a homeless person in a warm bath,
I feel like I need you,
like I know, when in truth...
you are killing my every wall.

Yet your eyes keep calling me,
and your lips beg me to come back
your skin pressed against mine will be delicious
but if only I could have
one more moment together
or witness one more laugh,
feel your hands touch me
or your arms wrapped around my back.

You make me stop thinking
I make you laugh,
if I could have one last moment
I'd pick your lips resting on my heart.
MonHX soul whispers
Written by
MonHX soul whispers  39/M/Kalispell, mt
(39/M/Kalispell, mt)   
123
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems