There was something so intoxicating about that night-
Maybe it was the smell of him, all sex and candy,
Maybe it was the location.
Maybe it was the honest conversation devoid of jaded promises
or commitments, neither one of us capable of more than this.
This is not love; it just is and that's enough.
Enough for me to be"that girl".
His imaginary friend, only existing in hushed conversations,
on empty dining room floors, and in silent museums.
His touch makes me beautiful, his kiss makes me high-
his words, a sobering reminder of my place in his world,
break my heart.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem