deepundergroundpoetry.com
two and everything
he makes me fake a cough and
look away
mess up my hair, fix it - repeat;
it's an addictive indulgence, this
annoying habit of embarassed insecurity
and
overwhelmed heartbeats
as i relish in ways he can
send colossal currents flooding through
my selfless body with just one slight touch
upon my skin
i am his mannequin, his play toy
; willing, though.
he whispers meaningless words but i melt
under his voice
& i could scratch a million blackboards,
deaf to it all as his breath still lingers.
beautifulbeautifulsounds
i don't dare to question the
credibility of this being love or
anything more or less
so i wait, ready to be
shown precisely what my heart is
fooling me around with.
& when he sings lullabies to me,
ooh.
I don't know how he feels to have
my pupils locked and readjusted on him,
therefore -
i wear my darkest shades to
hide the way i love his eyes on me
- my eyelashes a little too long to
hide what i don't intend to show
purposeful pauses to his questions
to prolong the moments when he
follows the movements of my lips;
i am hopeless; a sybarite of
his non-existent affections
with his hand on my head as i lay on
his lap...
this feeling will last - right?
look away
mess up my hair, fix it - repeat;
it's an addictive indulgence, this
annoying habit of embarassed insecurity
and
overwhelmed heartbeats
as i relish in ways he can
send colossal currents flooding through
my selfless body with just one slight touch
upon my skin
i am his mannequin, his play toy
; willing, though.
he whispers meaningless words but i melt
under his voice
& i could scratch a million blackboards,
deaf to it all as his breath still lingers.
beautifulbeautifulsounds
i don't dare to question the
credibility of this being love or
anything more or less
so i wait, ready to be
shown precisely what my heart is
fooling me around with.
& when he sings lullabies to me,
ooh.
I don't know how he feels to have
my pupils locked and readjusted on him,
therefore -
i wear my darkest shades to
hide the way i love his eyes on me
- my eyelashes a little too long to
hide what i don't intend to show
purposeful pauses to his questions
to prolong the moments when he
follows the movements of my lips;
i am hopeless; a sybarite of
his non-existent affections
with his hand on my head as i lay on
his lap...
this feeling will last - right?
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