He Hurts
Aesthetically perfect
Lustfully alive-
joyfully wild
he smells like wet wood
he looks like autumn
He hurts.
His eyes are dry
and his heart emptyMy best friend we'll
hold our hands forever-
wipes my tears away my lover_
while we walk under
these trees_
Will I be your
precious little girl
until the last day?
poem by Erika Conti
Added by Poetry Lover
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