Here's another old entry. This one's a love poem. I won't say from when and where, because that is irrelevant, and revealing more than I want to. But it is one of many about the same subject, and I just feel like publishing it.
(August 1,199?)
Today you came into my room
and layed down on my bed
you let me stroke your hair
and play soft music
only it was not a dream.
We talked, but it was not
what we were saying
my heart was beating so fast
I can barely remember anything
but extreme satisfaction
and when you asked:
"are you ever satisfied?"
I wanted to laugh
and when you looked long
into my eyes
I wanted to kiss you.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment