Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2019
You keep asking me about my past lovers
and whether i still have feelings for them.
You become upset when i don’t keep a straight face.

Yet, it is not my fault. For i can’t help but smile when i think about later tonight.
Pore excreting upon pore,
and how my fingers will through comb your hair.
Written by
tmartin  25/M
Please log in to view and add comments on poems