I write, because I must. I breathe, because I can. I love, because I am.
I can walk through this dark house and see you perfectly, just another gifted man using me to be free. When does it stop, you treat me so casually. You think I just don’t see.
By Rhonda Raisor6 years ago in Poets
This is when I want to go back To the sounds of the night Your touch, holding me tight Wrapped in your heat, your wondrous smile