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Literature Text
Reaching out,
Fingertips almost brushing,
But no closer.
Always just there,
There,
see but not touch.
Aching for comfort.
Wishing for contact.
Held back from
What I want,
The barrier thick
Between us.
Fingertips almost brushing,
But no closer.
Always just there,
There,
see but not touch.
Aching for comfort.
Wishing for contact.
Held back from
What I want,
The barrier thick
Between us.
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Another poem I wrote.
Comments2
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Your poems are always deep. There's a lot going on in that head (and heart) of yours.