curiouser&&

picture this: a question

lounging, tickling the skin beneath your nose

teasing you away before you even get a chance to blink.

fingers intertwined - yes it has fingers now - and

of course, as always, inseparable;

the lover who’ll still be there in the morning-

the child who cries for attention while smiling all the while-

a commitment, infinite, breathing

as the gentle “what if?” courses through sunlit veins.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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