Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 16
Often, I find myself searching for the meaning of life, and I wonder just how hard it is to find it, and I crave the feel of it, the touch of it, the sense of it.

Often, I find myself searching for the meaning of love, and I ask myself if I’ll ever be able to find it, and I urge the feel of it, the touch of it, the sense of it.

And just as I often find myself wondering all this, I also find myself looking at you, contemplating every minute, every sencond of you, and I long the feel of you, the cold of you, the warmth of you.

Often, I find myself searching, and just as I search, I think, maybe, you just might be it.
Written by
Marcela Riedel  20/F/Mexico
(20/F/Mexico)   
  201
     Kanishka, A Slow Heyoka, Anthony and Lot
Please log in to view and add comments on poems