We have a legacy
that we share in touches rather than words.
I have a whole life
spelt out in the way
I gesture with my hands
and tap my toes upon the floor.
The grace by which your fingertips dance across my ribs
tells me of how you'll never leave.
Your lips speak of how you love me,
in silence,
against the pale skin of my neck.
Your palms whisper to mine
talk of how the distance between us is like the stars
- constant, yet beautiful
in such a way that makes me feel tragically alone.
I cannot bring myself to love anything that isn't you,
or the softness that I feel when I run my hands through your hair;
I cannot bring myself to want when you are not there.
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 4:59 PM UTC
We have a legacy
that we share in touches rather than words.
I have a whole life
spelt out in the way
I gesture with my hands
and tap my toes upon the floor.
The grace by which your fingertips dance across my ribs
tells me of how you'll never leave.
Your lips speak of how you love me,
in silence,
against the pale skin of my neck.
Your palms whisper to mine
talk of how the distance between us is like the stars
- constant, yet beautiful
in such a way that makes me feel tragically alone.
I cannot bring myself to love anything that isn't you,
or the softness that I feel when I run my hands through your hair;
I cannot bring myself to want when you are not there.
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