there was just
something in
those eyes,
that kept
drawing me
to him, so
slowly, so
magically,
I forgot to
breathe.
and though
I knew that
he wasn't
looking at me,
I couldn't help
but love.
for after all,
the thoughts
that slipped
through the
gaps of his
teeth, and
brushed
his lips,
perfectly
curled around
my broken
heart.
but never
in my life
did I know
that poetry
can be this
painful,
especially
his.
for while
she was busy
smiling at each
verse, I felt
salty water
filling the
corners of
my eyes,
and trickling
down my
cheeks, to
finally fall
and wash
away the
characters
that were
printed so
lovingly on
the white
paper.
and despite
the pain,
I find my
eyes scanning
the handwriting
on the ochre
letters with
torn edges,
the letters
that weren't
sent to me,
and push my
mind to read
every phrase,
in hopes to
feel close
to him, even
if it's just
for a bit.
so at 2.am
I dip my
quill into his
ink and spill
my feelings
for the stars
to see,
because I
know that
it's the only
way to stop
my hands
from
trembling.
YOU ARE READING
Dried petals
Poetry"and I find myself tucking your smile in the space that lies between every letter .for babe , if I can't keep you by my side ,then I'll lock you in each poem these hands write down ."_Aya Highest rank #43 in poetry on 23/7/2017 .
