Questionable Desire
If I was but the definition of a Woman.
The Smell of my hair a drug.
The Touch of my lips a wish.
The Sound of my steps a dream.
My Desire His want.
My Love His need.
My Hope His ambition.
Moments with me pure splendour,
a lasting wish fulfilled.
Moments without me depressed,
tarnation and sorrow.
I wonder if this desire of mine
is entirely mine.
Or if it is a search
of all Women in their Men.
posted by Aurora at
23:48
1 Comments:
I bet you that somewhere far away a man is yearning for that woman you are, longing for her company. See, this woman has drugged him with the smell of her hair, has made him wish for the touch of her lips and has made him dream about the sound of her steps. He wants her desire, needs her love and aspires for her hope. So who knows Officegirl? You might not be the only one with strong desires tonight.
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