Damn you.
I swore you were right here. I touched you, I know I did.
As I come back to myself, your scent lingers.
Damn you.
I ache for your touch.
Closing my eyes is futile. You’re not here.
Leave my heart be. Stay out of my dreams.
Damn you.
Go ahead, make my day. :) Share, push a button or two!
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About Penny Wilson Writes
Penny Wilson is a freelance writer who writes in several genres. She has written articles for Counseling Directory .org, Introvert Dear .com, and WOW Women on Writing. Her poetry has been published in on line journals, such as, Ariel Chart, Spill Words Press and the Poppy Road Review. Penny is a member of the Austin Poetry Society and All Poetry .com Her poetry has been featured in the publication America's Emerging Poets 2018 by Z Publishing. She is currently working on her first novel. You can find more of her writings on her blog at: https://pennywilsonwrites.com/ and follow her on Twitter @pennywilson123.
You are most welcome. Anytime. 🙂
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Bravo again Penny.
The agony of longing for that special someone is frustrating and haunting at times.
Our imaginations take control and the sights, sounds, aromas and pleasurable intimacies rush to the forefront when we sleep and our emotional guards are down..
And yes males also succumb to these types of sensual nightmares even though we don’t often admit to them.
The scent of a woman haunts a man just as deeply . 🙂
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Thank you Gerry.
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