You have eyes that choke
Push the air from my lungs to save every inch for you
Not Enough?
Each word etched from the tips of your fingers to the back of my skull
It's worth the pain just to look into you eyes
I promised myself I wouldn't write you a love poem
I carefully avoid the word 'love' altogether and say I'm simply fond of you
Fond of the way you make my muscles contort with the smell of your skin
How my joints pop at the lick of your lips
Perhaps I am not fond of you at all
Only fond of the feelings you pull out from within me
They are excruciating
However
They remind me
I can feel; I am still real
Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 11:38 PM UTC
You have eyes that choke
Push the air from my lungs to save every inch for you
Not Enough?
Each word etched from the tips of your fingers to the back of my skull
It's worth the pain just to look into you eyes
I promised myself I wouldn't write you a love poem
I carefully avoid the word 'love' altogether and say I'm simply fond of you
Fond of the way you make my muscles contort with the smell of your skin
How my joints pop at the lick of your lips
Perhaps I am not fond of you at all
Only fond of the feelings you pull out from within me
They are excruciating
However
They remind me
I can feel; I am still real