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: