we spoke softly
as if raised voices might shatter us
and we traced those whispered outlines
on each other's lips
you ran your fingers over my skin
painting me like we painted canvas
you smudged over the collarbone,
that any anorexic would be envious of
and you forgot to draw in the tears
that made an appearance in your absence
but maybe in the moonlight
you just couldn't see the scars they left
I wished emotions into your eyes
inscribing you with the poetry in my heart
but it seemed insubstantial
when you made me so drop.dead gorgeous
I held my breath.
and wished you would never
.stop.
holding me
and maybe I choked out a few syllables
hoping you'd return the favor
(i.love.you)
the air was thick
enveloping around us
like some invisible blanket
it made those hushed whispers
that much more sensual
I gasped.
(I think you did too)
and we laid there meaningless
breathless, and speechless
until you kissed the words back into me
some days I wondered
if you could kiss the life back into me too
resuscitate me with the poetry on your tongue
and with the paintbrush in my hand
could you paint me into a happy ending?
0 Comments to "Six."