Poetry

Tuesdays.

written by: AnAureateLife

The feel of your skin;
warm and damp against the bomb ticking between my lungs
alive with the blistering moments that
comprise the memories now haunting my thoughts.

The sound of your voice;
smooth as cigarette smoke drifting from your open mouth
the perfect notes and rhythms, an opening act
for the marathon of sleepless nights to follow.

The taste of the vodka;
so sweet, the last drops lingering on the edges of your lips
burning through my emotions like California woodlands
creating this mess of hopeful meaninglessness.

And the way I look at you;
so punctiliously, observing the perfect way you smile
craving your every attention and wishing
it was me who you let be the one to understand you.

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