Trophy

A living aphrodisiac

An emotional kleptomaniac

Who renders most insomniacs

Once present in their mind

 

The kind of love you dream about

But mostly cry and scream about

The kind you feel supreme about

Because it’s hard to find

 

So as all others salivate

Over your lovely profligate

Your standards slowly dissipate

For your ego’s struck you blind

 

Yet once the fire quells to embers

It’s harder for you to remember

What’s between you, save their splendor

And your moments spent supine

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: