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On Strike
Folder:
Lord Owens The unknown teases me
Scratching at my brain
Planting ideas and doubts
Sprouting fear, worries, hope
The need to call him tugs but
Last numbers are the hardest to push
My weakness for him drains me
He doesn't need to know how much I crave his presence
I wonder and worry without reassurance
If he ever cared does he still
After all this time without my influence
Telling him he is sexy
Feeding his ever hungry ego
I was there to render a service
I am an employee
On strike
Black signs with red letters
"Give me more of your heart
or give me back mine"
I stand firm for the moment
But once the strike is over
Everything will be back
The way it was
Holli, this poem just can't be true...I mean...geez...much with the crying. The line ""Give me more of your heart
or give me back mine"
just totally ripped out my heart. It reminds me of my feelings for the Rich-age.