You come to bed and I roll over
to the far edge.
Afraid to touch you, look at you,
breathe on you.
Afraid to be rejected by
your words,
your look
or my bad breath.
You lay down and all night long,
we toss and turn.
Never touching,
never cuddling.
Sometimes,
I awake and see you on the far edge
and wonder
Do you feel banished too?
View User's Journal
Countless Thoughts have been Lost throughout the Ages to the minds of Madmen and breathless whispers of the Dead. Man has come a long way from the Age of Thoughtful Words and Script. This is my dedication to those who have been Lost along the way.
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