and yet I still
think of him everyday
against my own will
If he charged me every time he came to my mind
I would be a beggar lying on the street
with a dejected heart and cold feet
someone please be kind
fly me to him - quick!
His memory is therapeutic
His smile is beatific
His charm could ensnare a beast
Who am I to resist?
It is not desire, it is not lust
I cannot define it...but if I must -
I would call it an attachment and a hope
that one day he would fancy me back and we would elope
into the sunset, holding hands
me in my white floral dress, him in his black leather pants
ps. Got the inspiration to write a poem after so long! Happy to see that my artistic abilities are still here and I am not just a pool of maths and science. :D What do you think?
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