My head was against your swollen petals
My hands were through your thorns
Your cross was cold, against my chest
When my spine straightened, I could see the reflection of my hope in your eyes.
When your cross went down my thighs, it only made me realize that my hope may never die.
It was too bad you withheld my heart when it melted through your fingertips.
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 3:41 PM UTC
My head was against your swollen petals
My hands were through your thorns
Your cross was cold, against my chest
When my spine straightened, I could see the reflection of my hope in your eyes.
When your cross went down my thighs, it only made me realize that my hope may never die.
It was too bad you withheld my heart when it melted through your fingertips.
First hidden love with an older man. Written at 17 years of age.