reaching out of my depth
for an idea
intangibility straying through wisps of my hair
and past my eyelashes
into the unknown shape of someone
i think i know.
plagued by indecision and
called a woman
when i simply long for that depth only a man
could reach.
but really
i’m lost in the translation of you
before i learnt the language
and tangled in a conversation
of eyes that know no more
than its mother;
fresh
incoherent
needing.
aching for a silhouette.
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Author:
celeste83 (
Offline) - Published: March 31st, 2026 16:32
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 7
Offline)
Comments2
Not a woman but don't think they know less. I feel they got it figured after all who is supposed to be treated more gentle and have the bill paid for them. Good read
really great read.
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