• Posted by: CE Newman
  • Created: April 22, 2020
  • 0
I would love the way your lips part to sip your espresso, Your fingers delicately plucking the demitasse off the table. Your hands wear the scent of ink - the fragrance of prose, The crisp flutter of pages meshing with your breath. I would love to know the quiet sounds of your morning, The sounds of your sheets rustling as our legs intertwine.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Related entries

The Woman Who

This peom is about a woman in my life, who is suppose to be there for me but is not.


Dreams, desires, id and ego.


Dreams, desires, id and ego.


This poem is about our failure to feel fulfilled by our constant consumption of life.

Untold Secret of the Sky

Read it and find out.