His Name Was Vinsent

Tue, 05/05/2015 - 17:55 -- Latiaaa

I miss you. 

I miss the way our snugged faces touched, our eyesight would soften. 

"Look me in my eyes and tell me you don't want this to end."

Your hair, touched the skin on my bare hand. So crisp that it escaped through my fingers as I took a aura of lilacs, herbs, and meadows. 

I noticed every beauty on the landscape, every human creation on you. 

From the faintly dimmed freckles, to the peachy stubble.

I loved the way you chuckled. 

My lips softened your cheeks with every emotion and excitability in it. 

I meant every one of them.

I rubbed your back, caresses your neck, squeezed gently on your arms. 

I felt secured in the blanket of commitments and futures you gave me. 

I never wanted to rush or push you to your limits. 

Every kiss was its very own reserved love letter.

I cry in plea just thinking about it.

"Kiss me under a hundred trees with the sunsetting." 

Colorful, that's how I felt. Colorful. 

It felt deluxe, cost less, spiritual, escaping.

When our hands would lock in place, 

A thousand stars called our names.

Was it reality or drunk in blindness?

Hugs were so enduring that a heartbeat can be a whole. 

If I can say one last word before you go,

Can it be that I miss you. 


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