My Fault (3) Poem by Quinn Talen

The first three days were a blur—
Of heat, breath, and hurried whispers.
She moved like poetry I hadn't read,
And I, foolishly, tried to memorize her with touch.

Morning light barely touched our skin
Before we were untangled begrudgingly.
No words, just sensation—
Fingertips tracing unspoken promises,
Mouths meeting like we had no time to waste.

I remember how she watched me—
Eyes wide, curious, and wild.
She wasn't afraid... just unsure.
And I? I was already too far gone.

The second day came with laughter,
A feeling of euphoria for the last night's sin.
Not deep truths—no, just enough to feel close,
Just enough to make her smile
Before I kissed her into silence again.

The third day was the most dangerous.
We knew we were stepping past return.
But we didn't stop.
We didn't want to.
Our bodies spoke louder than our thoughts,
And in that silence, we carved a memory
Too powerful to forget.

It was never meant to be love—
Just something wild, fleeting, unspoken.
But my heart had other plans.
And that...
That was my fault.