You need his lips
Kissing your mouth
His hands caressing
Your hair, your face, your body
With every touch, whisper, look, smile
You become an instrument
He plays the strings of a guitar
You with every touch make a sound the becomes a melody
A composition depending on the day
Depending on the instrument
You are always a great instrument
Which composes great pieces
But in the end the teacher is tired
The Muse goes
He stops playing
You become a great classic
Who is never forgotten
It is always played
By a different teacher
Because even love ends
But the caresses are carved
In your body and can not be deleted
No matter what you do you'll forever be
A great classic, a great melody
YOU ARE READING
ALL MY LIFE -One poem at a time
PoetryThis is a poetry book that i began at the age of seven, hope you enjoy it. Please vote and comment that's the only way that I know you like them... and don't forget hit the Fan bottom :)
