I cannot hold in
the despair my heart aches
when you're not within my grasp.
I melt with the long days
of warm wishful daydreams
as my arms reach lonely lengths.
Just to hold you
would surely cure the aching throb in my gut.
My throat is dry and I begin to weep
into the arms of our beloved love seat.
A contest entry
- Quicke 10/10/1(Prompts Are Up) by Blooming Poet.
300 points, ended May 14, 2008, 8 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
-
so true. Thanks for entering
-
Prompts are up.
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