DESPERATION

I

I promised myself.

I promised myself I wouldnt Dare, write another poem about you again.

Yet, here I am Again.

There is just too much Agony. Too much burning inside me

to go Unnoticed. Too much emotion to keep this pen from this paper.

Im exhusted

Of feeling so fucking Unwanted.

So exhusted, from weeping during and after and then during again from the love we make

because it is the only time you'll touch me!

Touch me..

Touch me again.. Please.

So I can write about how much it hurts when you pull your hands

from my body and pull your lips

from my lips.

Touch.

Touch me again,

so I can bleed out these words from my skin to my pen,

From my pen to my paper.

Look at me.

NO.

Actually, LOOK AT ME.

Do you see the yerning?

Do you see the Desperation?

Desperate for you,

for your compastion.

Desperate.