PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

It's 3 am on a Thursday morning

and your memory still pierces my soul

I still remember how you taste

Too long did I think you would make me whole

I'm old now, yet my brain screams you name

  I'm old now, yet my loins crave your shame

  I'm old now, yet my skin mourns your flame

   I'm old now, yet I wouldn't change a thing

I can still see your hair fall over your eyes while drenched in Moonlight

I can still see your skin gleam with sweat in the Candlelight

I can still feel your breath on my skin every so Fortnight

I can still feel your nails carving furrows into my back at Midnight

The years are twenty plus, and yet you hold sway over me

And twenty winters plus has yet to freeze your grip on me

And twenty summers plus has yet burned your rein from me

The years are twenty plus, will I ever be free