Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
*it doesnt matter where it all started it doesnt matter that the first conversation we ever had started about me enquiring over some parma violets what matters is the first time he came to my house he laid on my kitchen floor and complained about the weather what matter is him complaining over me wanting to watch the notebook what matters is me feeling like this whole thing is slowly slipping until he grabs me and steadies my feet and tells me i was stupid for walking on ice what matters is the lack of making love but the connection that exists what matters is not his cowardice or my reluctancy but the fact they both fit so perfectly hand in hand what matters is the way his hair jolts round his face and haircuts dont make any difference what matters is the way he takes off his shirt and scrunches up his face when hes in pain what matters is the way he touches all my belongings and goes on my computer just to see what i was doing last what matters is my mom likes him and he's told his all about me what matters is no labels or commitments or dates but the way we were sleeping and he held me and wouldnt let go*
0
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 4:12 PM UTC
the rose
*it doesnt matter where it all started it doesnt matter that the first conversation we ever had started about me enquiring over some parma violets what matters is the first time he came to my house he laid on my kitchen floor and complained about the weather what matter is him complaining over me wanting to watch the notebook what matters is me feeling like this whole thing is slowly slipping until he grabs me and steadies my feet and tells me i was stupid for walking on ice what matters is the lack of making love but the connection that exists what matters is not his cowardice or my reluctancy but the fact they both fit so perfectly hand in hand what matters is the way his hair jolts round his face and haircuts dont make any difference what matters is the way he takes off his shirt and scrunches up his face when hes in pain what matters is the way he touches all my belongings and goes on my computer just to see what i was doing last what matters is my mom likes him and he's told his all about me what matters is no labels or commitments or dates but the way we were sleeping and he held me and wouldnt let go*
poweroftouch
Written by
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 4:12 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem