Your eyes glistening in sun ,
Driving your Chevrolet .
Nothing would make this moment better than today .
Your hand on my thigh .
I feel so high .
Your lips so soft and pink .
Your chubby ,high,rosey cheeks that make your eyes shrink.
I love your soft honey curls and your beard of red.
The sweetest soul that’s never been read .
Your laughter can make any sorrow subside.
That smile and you’re caring heart .
It’s own unique beauty ,a fascinating art .
I love when you joke around or talk so bluntly.
Gingersnap you’re just so fucking yummy.
You’re extraordinarily and immensely pleasant to be around .
But when there’s bad days I try not to make a sound .
I don’t like to see you angry I only want to be your peace.
You mean so much to me and I hope you know that at least .
You’re talented and stronger than any man I’ve known.
You’re struggles will not be forever ,soon they’ll be gone .
I know I don’t belong to you just yet.
But I am always here for you,never forget🥰
About the Creator
PoeticallyPurple24
I’m told I have a natural gift so let’s see how meaningful it really is !🥰
I used writing as a coping mechanism to get me through hardships in life .My goal is to become a poet that will change the world .I hope you can see my gift shine .
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making space
Since the only thing that might pull us back up is caring, it only makes sense that here, long after I’ve let my anger born of heartbreak and grief misplace, multiply, misdirect itself, let the enormity of my solitude turn into something I don’t know how to dispute with, something thick and heavy and suffocating, let the coldness thrash and fight under my skin, deeper still, in between the arches of my organs; here where the ground is always close and the fall is easy and I surrender to it often, lie without purpose for hours, it only makes sense that it is here, I decide to show up and surrender to the possibilities of the night. Show up to those who I deserted. Drawn to the sense of accomplishment, something I haven’t felt in a while, to memory of finished dish sending its aroma into the world and with it, wrapping the room with a strong sense of sweet nostalgia, I get up and decide to cook. I pick up my phone, type a message that reads “Dinner at mine @ 8PM, don’t bring anything” and before my courage deserts me again, drop it in our friends’ group chat, the way one would do when diffusing a bomb in the movies: one eye closed, snip at the wire, hoping for the best.
By Mesh Toraskar5 days ago in Feast
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