Posted in Prose, Relationships


I’ve often said
that you have a serious

to me…

You’ve countered that
and said, that was not true


I long for the sound of your
voice, and your words
written on my life’s paper

Seeing you
from far, then near
is almost too much to bear
waiting, anticipating, hoping

The distance between us
increases my addiction
with the cure being closeness
proximity to your touch
the softness of your voice, the
touch of your lips against

If there was a cure
I’d deny it, refuse it, do all that I could
to stay addicted

to you….



My profile might reflect who I am, what I think and why I write what I do. My profile might just reveal the inner workings of a deranged mind, a helpless soul, and a self-destructive way of living. Don't worry. I'm OK. I've just lost sight of my little sister in the evening clouds....

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