Beauty in still motion.
Eyes unopened.
Move slowly,
crouch lowly,
brush lips,
against your fingertips,
calm down,
you'll be around.
I must leave
can't believe,
roll in the sheets,
until we meet,
it's in my head,
while you're in my bed,
want to cry,
need to pry, my hands away
from the day,
it can all be changed
out of our range.
The mind is deranged.
Can't be blamed,
for the unsaid
and the way I led,
the thoughts and oughts
and now I'm caught in a web
as the undead often are
and the treadmill of moments
in your car
pass
Incessantly,
while you are ******* me.
To my surprise,
I am comprised,
of these feelings
that aren't appealing,
that force my knees to regress
and my heart to stress,
that it's not okay
to have your way
because I can be molded into a flower
that is nice to smell,
But eventually,
fell out of reach