#americano
Sometimes we just want to hold it
because it warms us
we can't decide
it might be bad for us
When the air's whispers are warm and the moon refuses to entertain
we can't decide
it might be good for us
When the wind carries chills and the sun searches for its shadow
we take it
into ourselves
knowing the potential harm
wanting the promised help
Sometimes we just want to hold it
because it warms us
©Christopher F. Brown 2016
Sep 4, 2016
Sep 4, 2016 at 5:53 PM UTC
Hair the colour of an Americano,
Petite denim shorts, blue.
The scent of a perfume distinguishable, to you.
Those skin-coloured tights – pleading to be torn.
You’re everything I desire.
Yet you’re everything I resent.
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 6:15 PM UTC