Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2016
I want to bethink it,
the voice that calmed my nerves,
the hands that met my skin,
the stare that burned my soul.

The memories came back.

In drunkenness I find solace,
and the memories invite me in.
Like an endless loop,
a deep tide, a disturbed wave,
and an unending pulse
that finally lures me,
to sleep.
Miss She
Written by
Miss She
185
   Doug Potter and Rickie Louis
Please log in to view and add comments on poems