PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Hate and have the drink that spurs
the dreams of when we'd lay by moon
in the nude and lost in our exposure.

And we'd spend hours on my bed,
bare and talking, wagging tongue
to figure out each other's strengths.

My hands couldn't keep from resting on you.
Any excuse for the touch, I found
that staying near you was the easiest
and hardest thing conceivable.

You broke your rules for me where able when
I thrust my bottom lip out at you.
You couldn't leave me, passing out, and stood
at the foot of my bed before you undressed and slept.

I like to think that when you dig, you'd dig for me
and slip a crevace in the shape of a V. Maybe,
somehow, I'd know you've dug a grave for what
could have been
the greatest love story I've ever heard.

It had everything for a moment there:
soul mate by chance, who'd met me and asked
if I'd meet for coffee some time soon.

In a better world, you were she,
but this place just keeps getting worse and worse.
It looks like I'll be moving on forever.