Poem #405

Heavy is the air of that what is forbidden. 
As you inhale, you chest rises and presses against mine.  
We are not in the safe zone, 
but we haven’t crossed the line. 
We are standing right on the point of no return  
and the window to run away is closing up. 

I can feel the warmth of your skin as your lips 
are just one mistake away from touching mine.  
I placed my hand on your face, your beard tickling my fingers 
just because I wanted to keep you just far enough 
to not fall into desire but close enough so we can burn in this moment. 

The tip of your nose is cold. 
Your hand travels upward from my thigh and I feel fireworks 
coming out of my skin and drowning between my legs. 
You pull me towards you, killing the little air between our bodies. 
My head sunk down before you could cross the line, 
the power to fight has died out, it’s your call now. 

With a kiss on the forehead you tell me I am safe with you 
but I am scared to look up. 
I push you away with one hand, I manage to escape  
just before the window closed.  
Maybe I will regret it, maybe I will pride myself on it, 
but it will forever be heavy on my conscience. 

A moment in time that lasted a few second 
was a love story I could write novels about.  


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3 thoughts on “Poem #405

  1. I really liked how this poem captured the moment, the complexity of the feelings described. ‘The tip of your nose is cold’ is such an unexpected line!

  2. beautiful… the feeling, emotion everything, the importance of feeling safe. love it

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