To think of him now is to want him, to touch the loveliness of his bare skin, to feel the wonder that is him. I miss his touch, wish he was here to kiss me fully, softly, so completely. The wonder of him won't leave my mind even when bombarded with the potent past and all its chains. Still, as always I hold the key (which of course) has already unlocked this door to you, my dear. I smell roses.
Reason for writing:
I wrote this poem when I was missing this person so much that it hurt.
And I was with my ex-boyfriend, who made me realize more than ever that he was not the one. The guy who wasn't there was the one. But not anymore.
Birth sign: Not entered
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