Everything is the colour of soft orange sun
Peeking through my curtain at 7am
I have written words on his skin
with my fingertips while he sleeps
Mainly "I love you" over and over again
and his body smells like home
Feels like the kind of warmth people spend their lives searching for
Every touch feels like a petal brushing against me
and I wonder if he knows he was made by angels or something
with a face like that
Beyond things of this planet
I can feel my heart turn into a hive
Some people get butterflies
I have honeybee's
making my insides drip with gold syrup
b.n
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 5:42 PM UTC
Everything is the colour of soft orange sun
Peeking through my curtain at 7am
I have written words on his skin
with my fingertips while he sleeps
Mainly "I love you" over and over again
and his body smells like home
Feels like the kind of warmth people spend their lives searching for
Every touch feels like a petal brushing against me
and I wonder if he knows he was made by angels or something
with a face like that
Beyond things of this planet
I can feel my heart turn into a hive
Some people get butterflies
I have honeybee's
making my insides drip with gold syrup
b.n
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