I still miss you.
Suitcases unpack themselves slowly in your room.
Posters are out.
They've seen us kiss, touch.
They've felt the tension in our hands, our spines.
Even the glitter in your eyes is struck with lust.
I am a child, hungrily ******* at the air at two AM.
Your name is a rattle, teasing me in the blackness of night.
I have dreams you say you're sorry,
but then,
I wake up.
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 5:43 AM UTC
I still miss you.
Suitcases unpack themselves slowly in your room.
Posters are out.
They've seen us kiss, touch.
They've felt the tension in our hands, our spines.
Even the glitter in your eyes is struck with lust.
I am a child, hungrily ******* at the air at two AM.
Your name is a rattle, teasing me in the blackness of night.
I have dreams you say you're sorry,
but then,
I wake up.
