, , ,

I’d rather have you
than this pen and paper.
I’d rather have you
next to me
in this bed
looking at me with those eyes
touching me with those hands
claiming me.
I’d rather have the silence
from kissing you
than these words I write.
I’d rather feel
you were real
all over again
than potent,
nor validated,
just because
I could put my feelings
into words.
I’d rather hear your voice
on my ear
than these senseless songs on the radio
than these scraping noises in my soul.