There he’d lie beside
You in the bed and you
Remember him muttering
His I love you many times
And kissing your lobe and
Licking your ear and placing
His hand on your thigh. Gone
Now all that, men die. You take
A breath; think on other things,
Not a young man’s death. Funny
How the mind plays tricks, you
Often think you feel him at night,
His hand on your thigh, his earlobe
Licks. Then you really want him
There lying beside you, your need
Is quite strong, the desire for his
Lovemaking all night long. But more
Than that, more than the lovemaking,
Wet lick, and kiss, it’s the soft words
He spoke, I love you much, you miss.
WHOM YOU MISS.
WHOM YOU MISS.
- Attachments
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- art by James Beckwith.
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Re: WHOM YOU MISS.
inspiring, Dadio--points to her sadness, but also to the gift of honest faithful love I'd hope to give away...a motivating preview of retrospect.
"Every genuinely religious person is a heretic, and therefore a revolutionary" -- GBShaw
