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JerryPat2
Member Laureate

since 2011-02-06

Posts 16975
South Louisiana

0 posted 2011-11-23 08:07 AM

I think about you more than a little,
And I miss you when you're away,
A crease of worry deepens my brow,
Simply because you are worth it.

My liking you has turned inside out,
It's more personal now than then,
Don’t hardly remember all those days,
You weren't around to be nice to me.

I would like to lean into you,
Taste your mouth upon mine,
As we shared a sizzling embrace,
Grinding our hips into the other.

I don't like it that you are so far,
I'd like for you to be next door,
But miles of highway center lines,
Can't diminish the passion within.

I'd hate to know you were sad,
And I couldn't kiss away the blues,
And chase your worries all away,
That would rip my heart asunder.

I like your style, love who you are,
Teenage butterflies flutter within me,
Whenever we get a chance to speak,
You are making my days complete.

Thank you for being a part of me,
You have no idea what you've done,
Uplifted my life, gave it more pride,
You're my friend, my lover, my pal.

©November 18, 2011 / Jerry Pat Bolton

~*~ He did not wear his scarlet coat,
For blood and wine are red,
And blood and wine were on his hands
When they found him with the dead--Wilde ~*~

Lori Grosser Rhoden
Member Patricius

since 2009-10-10

Posts 10202
Fair to middlin' of nowhere

1 posted 2011-11-23 10:10 AM

Jerry! I told you you had a happy place! Congrats my friend!

Lori

JerryPat2
Member Laureate

since 2011-02-06

Posts 16975
South Louisiana

2 posted 2011-11-23 10:15 AM

Yes, you did tell me, Lori, thanks for saying it again.

~*~ He did not wear his scarlet coat,
For blood and wine are red,
And blood and wine were on his hands
When they found him with the dead--Wilde ~*~

Word Weaver
Member

since 2011-03-06

Posts 437
California, USA

3 posted 2011-11-23 04:21 PM

I love love poems and you did great with this one Jerry.

JerryPat2
Member Laureate

since 2011-02-06

Posts 16975
South Louisiana

4 posted 2011-11-23 09:00 PM

Thank you, Marcia, your words mean much to me.

~*~ He did not wear his scarlet coat,
For blood and wine are red,
And blood and wine were on his hands
When they found him with the dead--Wilde ~*~

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