WHOM YOU MISS.

LOVE POEM.

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.

Reviews

[Tate Morgan]

a sensual memory well played

[Another Relic]

You really capture the feeling of loss so well in this one Terry. Great poem.