Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
1d
The air's too dry,
my lips chapped,
but no ordinary balm will do.

Why don't you wear it first,
let it melt into your warmth,
then let me steal it back,

until the taste of your lips
becomes my only addiction.
Digital Melancholy
Written by
Digital Melancholy  34/M/Bangladesh
(34/M/Bangladesh)   
  155
   2
Please log in to view and add comments on poems