The Writer and the Written

Two inanimate objects' (could you guess what they are?) love story. Hope you enjoy it!

Lonely are the nights she lays there desired, but untouched by him 

Staring at the dimly lit ceiling, she longs for the moment he'll let her in 

Only inches away, yet she feels as though they're miles apart 

She feels the distress in his demeanor and looks away in despair

Finally reaching out to her at 1:58 A.M., exchanging looks of desperation

As if they're both drowning in an ocean of their sorrows for not being deserving of each other 

He slowly traces over her body with the words he's been aching to get out 

With every rounded edge of his touch, she knows this is the last time

"Until death do us part", he pierces her skin with his final stroke of endearment

Lonely are the nights she lays there desired, but untouched by him 

With enduring memories plastered for all to read

She'd rather feel the coldness of not having him than the warmth of another

Reviews

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You hold such depth when you speak and again you got no credit??? I know people here can be rude but what they don't see is this is a spoken story. People like to be a grammar w***e and tell you oh you did this this and this wrong. Ya know there is a good way and a bad way to tell one. I tell you what I look for I look for a meaning a truth and you have that so smile:)