Thinking

I didn't want to think about the way you said my name;

the way your soft, rose-pink lips moved and curled in a way,

a way that made my heart stop and start so abruptly.

I didn't want to think about the way you held my hand;

the way your gentle, graceful fingertps traced my palms,

a way that made my palms get sweaty and my hands slightly shake.

I didn't want to think about the way you looked at me;

they way your deep, hazel eyes pierced into mine,

a way that made my eyes stare in a childish wonder.

I didn't want to think about the way you smiled at me,

they way your warm, comforting smile would make me feel

a way that seemed to melt my insides and I was finally at peace.

I didn't want to think of you at all;

the way that would make me write poems about you,

a way that always tears me apart.

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

ungodly.hours

"traced my palmed" i meant palms*

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741