Will miss his tease,
Will miss the squeeze
of his quick hug.
Will miss his ease,
Will miss his seize
of my hazel eyes.
Never miss his pleas,
Never miss his keys
that opened up my secrets.
Never miss his sleaze,
Never miss his breeze
that might've made me fall.
But now I'm free,
from his tree,
That made me
grow into lust.
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I am proud and honored to say that this very poem got published into a book, with the help of the American Library of Poetry. Forever grateful.
YOU ARE READING
Eunoia
PoetryBehind every poem is a story too afraid to be told bluntly. . . . I intend to write to make you feel.
