a story untold

My favorite story is made up of whispers exchanged in the dark
Laying side by side, where no one else can hear
Spoken in a language only we can understand.
Its’ words are written in the patterns
Her fingertips trace along my spine
Living in the heat of our skin pressed against each other
Kept only for us, in the spaces between bodies entwined.
And maybe we’re better this way,
Complicated and undefined.
Maybe some stories are too beautiful to write down.
Too beautiful to end


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s