You can’t help but
feel –
how dry
the air turns
in Winter,
and sucks the moisture
from your lips
as you pick, pick, pick
and bite
over and over,
the same spot,
till it turns
almost raw,
and then think –
how all your kisses
could have been there.

Tagged ,

11 thoughts on “Feel

  1. HemmingPlay says:

    Lovely and sad and real. Welcome back. :-)

  2. fridayam says:

    Lovely poem, and I agree, it is nice to see you publishing again x

  3. B.K. Maxwell says:

    Loved it!!! So true for me.

  4. platosgroove says:

    Great description of the place of what could or ought to be.

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