poem
Lying in Bed
Vice on my head
Wishing there were someone
To kiss my fore-head
Warm lips
Pressing my temples
Strong hand
On my back
Instead of writing this poem
I wish I were in your arms
Your curly hair
in my hands
The Color of fall leaves
Fading to brown
As the temperature cools
My own little fey boy
But Alas,
You are unaware
of my longing heart
Wishing for your stares
Vice on my head
Wishing there were someone
To kiss my fore-head
Warm lips
Pressing my temples
Strong hand
On my back
Instead of writing this poem
I wish I were in your arms
Your curly hair
in my hands
The Color of fall leaves
Fading to brown
As the temperature cools
My own little fey boy
But Alas,
You are unaware
of my longing heart
Wishing for your stares