22/America If writers were like flowers, then I would be a fresh bud just now blooming. The elegance and expression of poetry have drawn me into it like a black hole consumes light. I hope my foolish attempts at poetry do not insult those posting. 67 followers / 5.2k words
I want someone to hold and to be held by someone someone to love and comfort to dance around the kitchen with and to whisper I love you to in bed during the soft sleepy lazy times together
down the road driving away now from the grey the cloudy sky in dark sun an eye opens and spills out all the secrets that we held far away then from the old from the familiar and be new here with me
the soft pull of you fabric across my skin pulled over my head with rolled sleeves you keep me warm tucked into your folds burrowing down softly a comfort like no other