Buddhist Brit

 

I wish I could write.

The lighting is perfect, it feels like Europe.

I want to explain how good your jaw smells,

how long your legs are.

Every time I grasp for words,

they vanish.

A cloud of dusty chalk,

erased from my brow.

So instead,

I’ll lie in your arms,

smiling into my pillow.

Wishing one day I’ll write a poem about

this moment.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s