I hate the way
the air changes
when she stands too close to someone else.
How their hands dare
to claim the space
I dream of holding.
Every laugh she shares
with another mouth
burns like salt on my skin.
I want her —
all of her,
every breath,
every hour,
every secret.
Not borrowed.
Not shared.
Mine.
Aug 13, 2025
Aug 13, 2025 at 4:03 PM UTC
I hate the way
the air changes
when she stands too close to someone else.
How their hands dare
to claim the space
I dream of holding.
Every laugh she shares
with another mouth
burns like salt on my skin.
I want her —
all of her,
every breath,
every hour,
every secret.
Not borrowed.
Not shared.
Mine.
