I want to be the pen you grasp, soft between your fingers
I want to walk around your desk and taste how your scent lingers
I want to be the telephone, pressed close against your cheek
I want to see that secret smile that always makes me weak
And yet I’m many miles away and sitting here, instead
Writing this so that you know you’re always in my head.


About Marie

An eccentric & quirky artist and writer who fills her time between fantasy roleplaying sessions with painting, writing and playing her guitar (rather badly). Usually to be found with paint-stained fingers surrounded by books and tubes of acrylic paint.
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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 )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ 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 )


Connecting to %s