i-MiSs-YoU

I know you miss reading my poems,

well, here is one penned of the robber,

that thief who stole your heart with love.

I'll save you the cliches:

of butterflies that fly in my tommy,

when I stare at your pictures still up;

of the roses that glitter in your eyes!

I won't speak of the honeycomb feels

replaying your cute lips whetting mine!

O' how your beauty peaks my succumb.

But this strange feeling of hot itchings,

hovering my head as many lightnings

in the sky; the euphoria of nostalgia,

hitting down below my belly button,

and the nausea of fierce missings,

the replies of my heart to our love

young, living and lively, cut short!

Here is the awful song of my heart.

Here is the eager yearn of my soul.

Here is the soulful tear of my spirit,

the sorrowful dirge of our ripe love!

This is my poem to you,

i-mISS-yOU

© Ben James

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