I think I'd really love her
That girl stood by the bar
Who wouldn't love the way her ******* jiggle when she laughs...
Or how she tosses her hair with all the vanity of the latest pop ****...
or the way she's ******* on that straw with relish....
Makin' me so **** hot my teeth clench with burning need
I'd soon remove those Daisy Dukes,
to taste what lies beneath
I want her knelt before me
wide open, eyes pleading
begging for it
gagging on it
I want to make her *****, just to wash her clean
this angel drenched in whiskey
with a smile of gasoline.

They say poems don't have to rhyme.
That time heals all wounds And absence makes the heart grow fonder.

I'm no Scarlett or Juliet, but I can swear among all the things I never want to have to say to you, the most embarrassing is "I missed you so badly, I couldn't get out of bed today."

They say there are other fish in the sea, well, I don't swim. I don't breathe water.
I drown.

And you're the lifeguard, flirting with that ***** in a bikini.

But it's okay. Poems don't have to rhyme. A lot of good that does me.

I.      My misty April dream subsides
           and she's still there.
         A vision with what's real collides;
            a fancy caught me unaware

II.     I dreamt
            of secrets caught in ruby lips
            riddles on her fingertips
        
III.    I wonder
            if I'm one of countless blips
            on her radar full of ships

IV.    I dreamt
            that I am more.