How much I miss his faceA Poem by a_methyste It comes as a soothing itch! As a need to see it more and more. To gaze, The memory of his features. I want it another time. If only he were in town, How I would have played? How I would get drunk?
It comes as a soothing itch!
As a need to see it more and more. To gaze, The memory of his features. I want it another time. If only he were in town, How I would have played? How I would get drunk? Drunk! Drunk! Drunk! In his touch. In his clench. In his embrace. Over and over again I miss it! I want him around. Drunk! Drunk! Drunk! © 2024 a_methyste |
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Added on December 4, 2024 Last Updated on December 4, 2024 |
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