Third
I am Lorrah, they call a mistress;
I lured a man and started a mess;
I’m just eighteen and stopped studying;
I love a man and I was now hurting;
Wearing nothing, lying beside him;
Hearing his snores and his soft breathing;
He’s the father of my old lover;
Oh God! Why can’t I feel any sicker?
Opening his eyes, I touched his lips;
Devouring the sight, I gave him a kiss;
He smiled at me, but eyes questioning;
He hugged me tight, his body warming;
I wanted to do it, I wanted to end;
But how can I start if he held my hand;
He kissed my knuckles and after he spoke;
“I’ll divorce my wife so we wouldn’t be broke.”
YOU ARE READING
Third
PoetryI am the third. His wife, Him and I. ----------------------- A/N If you're not quite comfortable reading things about third party, I am not going to force you to read this book. I don't want to cause any emotional impact regarding this matter. than...
