Untitled

You didn't walk on my heart,
you walked around it.

Just your smell wanders around,
meeting me as I inhale.

Feeling exposed.

Physical contact.

The white room, the white touch. Makes me shiver.

Underwater, you say it's like giving birth.
They must take you when you lie,
in your tiny bed.
Tiny hands can't handle what you bring.
And though the night comes and
the silence is loud,
I find it hard to sleep.

Maybe it's the pillows, they're still alive.
Tip-toeing through the halls of my mind.

The child sleeps.

Responses

2 comments so far.

1. Jess says:

   Thank you for taking the time to read my poetry and leave your thoughts...

   I love the language here and the subdued emotion... almost a sense of detachment.. like standing outside yourself to look at a moment because it's easier that way.. that makes this real and very compelling

2. Alina says:

   Thank You, I love to hear people's different interpretations of the stuff I write. I like to hear about how something I write makes someone feel, or what thoughts it provokes. So, Thank You.....xx