The day you passed
The day you passed
Empty is my heart, full is my mind: filled with what ifs the Shoulda Woulda could have been. Cold nights now, no longer enthralled by your raw essence saltiness after shave and metal. Just thinking of it sends Shivers up my spine, and drives me mental.
The shenanigans twinkling in your eye, the shape of your lip as it traces on my thigh the touch of your hand caressing my shape and back up again.
Sensing your breath upon my neck, callused but soft are your hands, as a mere whimper escapes my mouth.
Now all I see is your death and not your member or our sex.
Your pecs Where it connects to your chest the place I would lay my head and rest there’ your gunshot wound.
In that spot as I lay listening to the pounding feeling you throbbing harder.
Now thoughts of unpleasant thoughts, atrium cardias to rigamortis spooning on me in our bed.
Nighta full of Terror and torture I'm now a mourners with PTSD and anxiety disorder.
Copyright © Caroline Foister | Year Posted 2024
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