Second Skin

Tuesday, June 01

By Avery Campbell

A poem.

And every night I have to come home and strip off the clothes that smell like you,

And I am forced to become myself again.

I wish I had held on just another moment longer. 

I wish I had kissed you a second time, a third time.

I wish I could be forever suspended in the frame of time where your hand is about to leave mine,

But in my vesion of events, 

It never does. 

Subscribe to our Newsletter & Never Miss a Post!