Romance

Sun, 04/07/2019 - 23:04 -- whodies

We sat together
fingers intertwined
legs swinging over
the ledge,
the edge of abyss
(of bliss?)
no space between

The sun
and the cold
are at odds
and we sit
so long
we catch the long awaited victor
and it would seem
he likes me

And the sun still fights
still tries
to burn our Earth
but the cold
angry
still reigns.
And He is warm

and I am cold.

And as he nervously chatters
filling the void,
and I ignore my sniffles
and it would seem
he likes me
but what of I?

And the light flickers
and dies
a lone rebel
and his words echo
such kind words to me
and I feel strange
and in the end
he pulls me into a tight embrace

and I feel strange

Trauma
and fear
floods back into
my already fragile mind
it feels wrong?
the action. Never the idea.
and I feel broken
And I remeber a term
and perhaps it fits
perhaps it's too soon
perhpas it is nerves
or time and place

too soon to be certain

so i await the talke
to unfold

again

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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