Her fingers never stopped grazing mine Sometimes they travelled up my arms, dropping little squeezes along the way Her touch was gentle and delicate — like a breeze that was afraid of bending a flower Yet she says she doesn’t know how to tell me she loves me Advertisements Continue reading Telegram
Learning #calligraphy recently. Decided to do one of my own #poem / #prose. It still sucks, I know 😞 But it's a lot of fun! (≧∇≦) #writing #mood #poetry #writer #writersofig A post shared by Julius Eddy (@juliuseddy) on Sep 23, 2016 at 6:38am PDT Continue reading If She Were A Colour
What we break—suddenly, abruptly—we feel regret, guilt, a need to fix it.
A toy. Continue reading By the way
if I showed you my teddy bears and toys
you wouldn’t stare at me
like I’m a creepy boy Continue reading Mr Blyde
There were many ways to kiss her.
There was the ordinary kiss; the peck. Simple, frequent, and habitual.
It is reserved for the smaller things in life. When I say good morning. When she hands me a coffee. When she leaves for work. Continue reading Ways to Kiss Her
If you asked my favourite colour, I’d not have said brown. Continue reading Blue
Stay up with me through this night, Let us talk of dreams take flight. For after tonight we shall meet, When my heart is beat. Continue reading Tea With The Rain