Warm Linen

I wonder if he writes me words like I do for him
Sometimes I reach out to only find a phantom limb
I’m learning that his desire for me is looking rather slim
There are many girls he likes but I’m not one of them
The spark for life that I once had is dying from within
Still I read his words and take a skinny dip to swim
I run around his sacred words like I am a pilgrim
My soul reacts and knows that he is one in a trillion
He probably doesn’t want it but he left me so smitten
I can feel my orbit gaining speed and spiraling
I still have the hope that he may be listening
And even though he rejected me I hope he is living
He’s so many miles from me it feels like a million
I want to wrap around him like he is warm linen

ยฉ Delia Ross. 2019

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