With her
I get sick to my stomach just thinking that you’re now with her, in her bed, in her arms, in her house, kissing her with the same lips that once kissed me that told me they loved me. I get sick just thinking you’re doing with her everything you did with me.
👁 2💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.