"forefeeling" poems
The shape of a heart isn't the
edges, its what collects inside.
memories of what was enlightening
brightening the darkest of times.
A singular touch, weakening the
sorrow, forefeeling the pieces that
were needing a loving touch.
Past collections that mend every
pain that was in my past.
You mould my heart...
I cant imitate the sensitivity that
your recreate with a loving touch,
But you words fill up the corners of
a heart that absorbs your every word of love.
Jul 31, 2017
Jul 31, 2017 at 5:04 PM UTC