PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Our favorite Canadian artist sang through the speakers as we sat bundled in the backseat.  We were isolated from the world, parked down that backstreet.  It was there I told her what she meant to me.  Reciprocating affection is what drove us back to my room, because this wasn’t some teenage backseat fling.

There, she began to kiss me on the neck as we burned our favorite incense.  She could feel the thump of my heart pressed up against her breasts.  That first touch sent a shockwave sensation that was felt throughout every single bone. 

I tried to keep the clock from her vision, so she wouldn’t know it was time for her to go home.  So desperate for time to freeze like the snow as it fell upon the street, because the sun set so quickly on us.

I saw visions of our future when I closed my eyes that night.  It was the shortest day of the year; it was the longest love of my life.