He pulls me forwards
until my head is on his shoulder
and my legs wrapped around his knees
a hand on his side
still, because he’s ticklish
fingers tracing a line down my back
so tender, so soft
like freshly cut watermelon, perfectly red
on a summer afternoon when I am parched
like poppies popping up out of blood-drenched blades
like sun-stained sea glass strung into a necklace
and gleaming on a collarbone of kisses
my collarbone is glistening with kisses
I look up to his face
and smile
hi, I say
so simple
hi, he replies
almost to undermine
the feeling of his heartbeat against mine
He strokes my hair
with his hand
and I begin to understand
why poets write sonnets
why artists have muses
why even the most broken things
still have their uses
What could he possibly see
in all of this?
all of the grief, strain
unresolved pain
what do I have to contribute here?
But when he touches me, I see
I have hands to hold
a neck to kiss
and opinions so bold
they almost have to be shared
I finally believe
someone has cared
I do not feel scared
when he strokes my hair
and says
hi
Well hi, my darling
you make me think
I can fly.
17:25pm – 09/08/25.
-
Author:
Chloe Sellers (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 9th, 2025 11:50
- Category: Love
- Views: 9
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy
Offline)
Comments2
A poem about one that inspires confidence and peace. Lovely
thank you!
You are most welcome
A lovely day write of one who offers, support, love, care and peace, enjoyed the read
thank you!
You are very welcome
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