Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 5
If you were to marry,
I’d sit in the crowd,
but not with others amongst the pews.

I’d stand far away -
in the grass with the bugs,
and ponder of me and you.

They’d crawl up my legs,
and I’d scratch at my thighs -
then squeeze gently like you used to do.

Wondering what could have been,
perhaps better if not -
something slick I once thought was glue.

Now you’re not my lover,
a kinship I feel,
but my heart is still beating in blue.
Written by
pleblderblerbmerbcschrb  23/fatigue
(23/fatigue)   
15
   Maybelater2
Please log in to view and add comments on poems