Categories > Original > Poetry
There used to be a tenderness in your touch.
The painful awkward innocence of new love with every brush of your fingertips.
And every time our eyes met
there was this feeling.
This feeling of boiling water
Of roller coasters,
the wind pressing my neck up against the headrest
not knowing whether to laugh or throw up..
Yeah.
That was the way it was.
I was barely 16 then,
and I couldn't even look at your without glowing red
and you
were sweet.
You were everything...
You seemed to be the solution to all my problems in that time of desperation and
You were a man.
Two years older than I
with experience
With baggage
With a broken heart I was begging to mend and I
was 16.
Never touched or loved
Pleading for attention, for acceptance
a "Yeah, you're pretty".
And
It's been two years now..
And we lay together on your bed and I close my eyes,
trying hard to block out the past,
deny those nights of foolishness
guided by lust underneath the moon and I
Lay there, feeling your face against mine,
the soft prick against my skin,
reminding me you're long past due for a shave and we
Lay there in silence,
not knowing what to do
or what to say.
I just lay there
In the bed you made for me.
And is it beautiful that we can lay there, melted into each other,
yet separate?
Without the blush of new love, the trembling fingers and raised heartbeats..
Or is it sad there is nothing new to work for?
Nothing secret.
Nothing but our past and countless nights of lust holding us together with brittle chains.
And I know we accept it.
Like the rising sun.
Like death.
Like pain.
But sometimes
as we lay in silence
I catch your eyes.
And in them
I see the 16 year old girl.
Begging to be touched.
To be loved.
And I see the tenderness in your touch.
Your gentle hands.
I can almost feel your whispers...
mouth pressed softly against my ear on those dark nights...
And I see the way you held me
The look of longing in my blue eyes
and I
Can almost hear your voice...
Soft and soothing..
Telling me
It'll be OK .
I remember how you put up with me..
How I made you cry and yet...
You're here.
In this bed...
behind those green eyes.
And I see love in them.
I see love in you.
And it isn't sad.
It's beautiful.
The painful awkward innocence of new love with every brush of your fingertips.
And every time our eyes met
there was this feeling.
This feeling of boiling water
Of roller coasters,
the wind pressing my neck up against the headrest
not knowing whether to laugh or throw up..
Yeah.
That was the way it was.
I was barely 16 then,
and I couldn't even look at your without glowing red
and you
were sweet.
You were everything...
You seemed to be the solution to all my problems in that time of desperation and
You were a man.
Two years older than I
with experience
With baggage
With a broken heart I was begging to mend and I
was 16.
Never touched or loved
Pleading for attention, for acceptance
a "Yeah, you're pretty".
And
It's been two years now..
And we lay together on your bed and I close my eyes,
trying hard to block out the past,
deny those nights of foolishness
guided by lust underneath the moon and I
Lay there, feeling your face against mine,
the soft prick against my skin,
reminding me you're long past due for a shave and we
Lay there in silence,
not knowing what to do
or what to say.
I just lay there
In the bed you made for me.
And is it beautiful that we can lay there, melted into each other,
yet separate?
Without the blush of new love, the trembling fingers and raised heartbeats..
Or is it sad there is nothing new to work for?
Nothing secret.
Nothing but our past and countless nights of lust holding us together with brittle chains.
And I know we accept it.
Like the rising sun.
Like death.
Like pain.
But sometimes
as we lay in silence
I catch your eyes.
And in them
I see the 16 year old girl.
Begging to be touched.
To be loved.
And I see the tenderness in your touch.
Your gentle hands.
I can almost feel your whispers...
mouth pressed softly against my ear on those dark nights...
And I see the way you held me
The look of longing in my blue eyes
and I
Can almost hear your voice...
Soft and soothing..
Telling me
It'll be OK .
I remember how you put up with me..
How I made you cry and yet...
You're here.
In this bed...
behind those green eyes.
And I see love in them.
I see love in you.
And it isn't sad.
It's beautiful.
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