I would tell you about him but it wouldn't make much sense
Since what makes it good is the vast space and utter calm
The lack of order disguised as cliche romance
He is a cliche of himself at times
Which can make me itch but I'll scratch his back and my own
Pleasure isn't a necessity but an effect of the weightless cause
I've told you before that love is light
And this is a bright white feeling when he laughs with me
And only slightly dimmer when I cry on his chest about the existential angst
Because he is willing to capture dust particles for me and I would love to know a version of myself that can feel more grateful than I do for him
About the Creator
Everleigh Jöhanne
from washington dc, living in london
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also pledge your support or give them a one-off tip, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Keep reading
More stories from Everleigh Jöhanne and writers in Poets and other communities.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.