And she would
often crave his
taste that burns
the back of her
throat, ever so
slowly, as much
as she would
miss the words
she has to tie
around her neck
whenever he's
close.
in his presence
she drowns
herself in the
echo of his
voice, and
tucks every
rhyme that used
to float in the
air, under
the sleeve of
her warm
sweater, so
he won't notice
them.
and at night, she
slips the love
letters she wrote
for the moon
under the bed,
just to feel the
buzzing of his
touch against
her skin.
he was what
she would
call an
inspiration
yet she could
never explain
why she failed
to make
something out
of him, nor
the sudden
urge to hide
a part of her
soul from him
everytime he's
near.
until it was too
late to realise
that he wasn't
a muse to chase
but a poem to
keep.
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 .
