I wrote poems for you
I wrote poems for you.
Some were bold, burnished, bright.
They praised your beauty, your body.
Burning for your
brilliant mind.
I wrote poems for you.
Some were sweet, silky, soft.
They were sensual, sexual, seductive.
Seeking to steal
your sacred heart.
I wrote poems for you.
Some were yearning, wanting, craving.
They were aching, thirsting, needing,
Longing to draw you
into my arms
I wrote poems for you.
But they were just wasted
unwanted words.
You were always
someone else’s girl.
.
.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
Art by Jack Vettriano
georgeforfun 
Thank you
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My pleasure indeed
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It seems to be the case most of the time. I have never had romantic poems written to me – I could not imagine what they would even say.
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Today my fingers aren’t cooperating with my keyboard and my mind to finger interface. I’ve restarted this reply 5 times, maybe it’s my key to shorten my answer)))))
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So many people fear rejection of their words, whether in love letters, love poems, or just journals of their thoughts and poems from their thoughts, romantic or not. Fear and problems with self-esteem and ideas of self-worth. Heck I was born preemie, red headed, freckled, and haven’t grown up much sense then, now 65 years later.)))
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You are 65 years young. I do not see 65 as ‘mature adultish’. I just met a couple – a few hours ago – moving into the property i work at (I am an office mgr for a property management co). The wife is 80 and her husband is in his early 90’s. You would never know their age. Totally hip and the sweetest couple. Her ring tone on her cell phone is ‘bad to the bone’!
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I don’t see 65 as mature anything. I stay young by avoiding gathering with non-livers-and-lovers-of-life))))))))))))))) and bars, never know when someone might slip me a Minnie and have their way with me. Gout don’t dance anymore anyway.
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🙂
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));<))
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Funny you mentioned the older couple. I lost a bet on the election in 2012 and had to attend inauguration balls as my Loss. I also had to wear my Marine dress uniform, which meant, high and tight haircut and no facial hair either.
It must have shocked my system or scared the hell out of it. My beard turned white when it returned and I only need a washcloth to comb what’s left on top.
))))))))))))))))
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I started writing right before my first wife and our first born passed, and then put it out of my mind until my second wife and our twins passed. A friend from Twitter convinced me that it might help me dealing with tragedy if I started letting it all out in a positive manner. She’s a surfer giving advice to a professional mental health specialist on paper and practice, I didn’t listen at first. Then one day I read a piece from someone else on Tumblr and the light went on. I still suck at it, but at my age, really, does it matter if anyone else likes or appreciates my lack of talent? As long as my inner Peter Pan doesn’t suddenly grow up and leave, heck I’m happy and mostly sane))))))))))))
operative word = mostly ))))))))))))
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Many more hugs to you. I would say you are sane…..of course what defines sanity? I think we are all insane in our own ways….I know I am………..😏
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