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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Other · #1439798
just a good free hand poem
When i dream he is there,
loving me, holding me, touching me.
feeling my inner mosts with his words.
There are times that he just holds me,
and other times we are physical.
He takes siege of my body.
In the joy i cry out,
he smothers my tears with his lips.
When i awake i once again cry out,
this time not for joy but in pain.
There is no one there,
to hold me, to love me, to caress my soul.
I cry because in this cold reality,
there is no Mr. Right.

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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1439798-Mr-Right