I called out to you last night, needing the warmth of your whisper.
Hot, fresh breath to my lobe telling me everything would be alright,
but you were not here when I called.
You are no more than an afterthought. Just a dream.
I called out to you last night, hoping you would come to my aid. A true damsel in distress.
Hot, fresh breath nowhere near my lobe as I fiend for your words,
but you were missing in action from my presence.
You are no more than an afterthought. Just a dream.
I called out to you wishing to be near your firm embrace.
Hot, fresh breath hovering, close to my cool neck.
The cloud of lingering fog and frigid air left a mold of your silhouette.
You are no more than an afterthought. Just a dream.
I called out to you amid the circling frost in my room.
Stiff and viscous is the cloud where you once stood.
Only a remnant of where you were last will be the lingering memory of you.
You are no more than an afterthought. Just a dream.
Comments
Post a Comment