amy lr

United Kingdom


Bare with me

August 23, 2020


Your voice drifts down the phone late at night,
as smooth as the honey I pour; 
into my tea, 
scented and brewed for my anxiety,
so I think to myself how easy this all could be,

yet it whispers when your voice is vacant,
testing my patience,
how much can I taste it? 
The guilt that sits on my tongue, 
it manifests itself like smoke in a lung.

I speak without thinking, 
so I can be reckless,
but the guilt hangs round my neck like a necklace,
so I’m left thinking our love will one day grow helpless
-eventually fade at noon or around breakfast,

but for now we carry train tickets in pockets from visits,
zipped in tight so the wind doesn’t take it,
as tight as the hoodie you gave me that sits at my waist,
that I tug round me,
so I can smell you and remember your taste,

we can talk about the future and our dreams and fears,
hold each other as we cry out our tears,
and so when you walk me home in cold breeze,
after I spent the time at yours on my knees,
I’m yours and I’ll love you for as long as I breathe,
But bare with me. 


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  • August 23, 2020 - 2:22am (Now Viewing)

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