Don't ever tell me we aren't made of the same ashes that were once an enteral fire.
You haven't seen the way his eyes illuminate in the deep blanket of the night sky- almost as if his eyes were made to shine and bring out the moon in the absence of the sun.
You haven't heard the way his blood flows through his veins by a beating heart that could out-strengthen ten oxen. It's like his body runs on an out-of-this-world element; an extraterrestrial energy.
You haven't felt the way his hands bring an addicting burn to my skin. His touch is a fire more breathtaking than the bluest and brightest celestial body.
You haven't known the way I do that he was once a luminous star.
YOU ARE READING
Poems
Poetry"I know that sometimes for people, I feel like too much; But let me kiss away the phantom pain that the scars remind you of, Let me kiss the burns on your hands, From when you touched the burning fire within my soul. Let me show you that yes, I am...
