My Dearest Friend,
He walks by me and I tense up a little.. it's less and less..
The cost of being together for so long I guess..
But still, I can't help but hope for just a second will he touch me?
Acknowledge me?
Smile or better yet look at me?..
But no.. not today.. not at this moment.. maybe later.
And hey there's always tomorrow..
From The Tales of brown and better..
Yours Truly,
Me
About the Creator
Licia
Writing Is A Passion Of Mine... I Would Love For You All To Join Me On This Journey...
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His Haibun
He does not like poetry; I write it anyway and do not tell him. It's true his face is not a poet's face. It is round and open, youthful; too apt to be compared to the sun. His nose is neat. It is impossible to imagine him smoking a cigarette, terse, full of cheekbones and tension. His warmth burns my fingertips. I am here for his fascinating body, the haphazard freckles I touch one by one; he is here for my eyes, just my eyes. A sunbeam sneaks through the curtains and pierces us both, sizzling the spices of his skin. I inhale and wrap myself in him. He kisses my eyes.
By TheSpinstress3 days ago in Poets
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I was going through the stories I wrote way before Vocal and found a series I’d penned on the American movie industry. I covered the economics of making and distributing movies, the ways the movie industry responds to modern challenges such as MeToo movement and the streaming technologies, and other topics, including some movie reviews.
By Lana V Lynx6 days ago in Geeks
Comments (1)
Wow what an impressive poem🥰