Talk to me with your most vivid words.
I want you to whisper beautiful verses on the silence of my eyes.
Whisper to me "I'm coming", even when you're here
and if you are still going, say that you will come again.
Talk to me on my chest, the moment you cowardly call for my body to your edged games.
Because your voice had, has and will always have an echo in its fallacy
and it sinks into my most innocent, hiding places.
Speak to me with your hot breath, soft and sweet, just like an innocent confession.
Scold me for my mistakes, as it is fitted to an anxious actor, who forgot the lines of his role.
Talk to me softly when I am worried and when I'm afraid, locked in my own monologue,
you just hug me tight and let all the world crumbles around us.
Steepshot