poetry?

idk i'll sketch up some poetry, it has been forever


undying passions,
touching skins,
do these things make you uncomfortable?
one shouldn't be, one should.
but, neither do.

I lie awake in the depths of midnight
thinking.
"what could've been?"
but the sun rose before i could answer my minds prying call
the sun has its answers within its warm rays
they say
I look up, eyes closed, and ask my dying call once more.
"what could've been?"
But there comes no answer.