by Linda M. Crate
i drank guiness on my birthday
to get drunk on memories
of you; because i love and miss
you but i can only tell you
so many times it's better to imagine
you dancing your tongue inside
my mouth; to fantasize about
canada breeching the virgin isles
to picture your kiss — it's almost like
kissing you again, i crave your touch
and your love and your voice
like a drug addict looking for the
next fix; like a river needing rain, like
a dancer needs to dance or a writer to
write and my passion burns bright
as the sun — pretended that day didn't
happen, sometimes, that it was all
some nightmare i have yet to awaken from
because i know we are meant for so
much more than this paltry friendship.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment