Yearning. It's the song you play on repeat. Over and over. Until the words stumble over each other like the drunken legs you have on that one frustrating night.
Yearning is the long night - watching the clock tick by; waiting for that first ray of sunlight.
Yearning is wanting to hear you're told that you're beautiful. Sweet, like the lies you tell yourself in an attempt to convince.
It is the soft caress at your waist, suddenly evolving into an urgent, restrained grab. It is the arm enveloping you at night, under the covers on a hazy night.
Yearning. It's all of the words left unsaid, words held back by gritted teeth, fingers closed in a fist.
Yearning is wanting to be told "I love you, too". To feel loved. To feel consumed. It is wanting to drown in the sea of you and letting the waves swallow me like the love I want from you.
Yearning is the long night - watching the clock tick by; waiting for that first ray of sunlight.
Yearning is wanting to hear you're told that you're beautiful. Sweet, like the lies you tell yourself in an attempt to convince.
It is the soft caress at your waist, suddenly evolving into an urgent, restrained grab. It is the arm enveloping you at night, under the covers on a hazy night.
Yearning. It's all of the words left unsaid, words held back by gritted teeth, fingers closed in a fist.
Yearning is wanting to be told "I love you, too". To feel loved. To feel consumed. It is wanting to drown in the sea of you and letting the waves swallow me like the love I want from you.
No comments:
Post a Comment