Been wanting to write
but the subject is always the same lately-
That smile and eyes and mouth and lips and arms and hands and strength and embrace that makes me feel so small; so cared for.
I’d like to write about the sky, the mountains of this town, the falling leaves and autumn sun.. but they don’t compare to the feelings you stir up inside of me
so I run away sometimes, afraid of this
Afraid of being too available that you stop chasing me-
Don’t want to keep running
but if I stay put,
Would you stay with me?
Elusive creatures are attractive for a reason
If you think you can have me,
Would you still want me?