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Ukraine love Freedom poem Social commentary crypticbard Depression galateus sad excalibardWistful
Wistful fingers
Tickle the dark hairs
Below the shirt sleeve.
Brush the unknown.
Pondering so much, in one small movement.
Emboldened,
They roam the contours
Of your flesh;
Wondering,
Enjoying.
You signify permission
With your stillness, but
I cannot forget.
It cannot be brushed away so simply
I am not allowed
Even with your assent,
To pretend.
Sunday 13th June 2021 1:57 pm
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