She trembles,
Head laid delicately upon my chest,
As her fingers cease my ribs,
Her breaths let off a soft tune,
My heart beats in unison.

I lay there benumbed,
Drowned in thought,
Almost in tears,
Torn between two worlds,
I hate that she makes me feel this way.

But she knows not,
What chaos she cooks,
In my head are sand dunes of thoughts,
Many alike,
But different in sundry.

I bite my tongue,
In an attempt to speak,
The sombre night suppresses my prattle,
I bite my tongue,
As her peaceful sleep interrupts.

I stroke her hair,
And whisper; I miss you,
With a kiss to seal,
But morning shall tell,
A tempestuous tale.

– Smyekh David-West.


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