My Poetry
By Juan Colon
Missing You
how I miss the face, which sits the lips
I once kiss
till excessive bliss.
when all that’s left
is my imagination of your breast
on garments left.
The conjuring scent
of juices that once flow when I was present.
My fingers mourn your touch
and as much as I tighten my rough grip and thrust,
these hands lack the likes of such, such
warm, intimate beauty.
I miss you so much.
Lessons Learned
Short skirt, good flirt,
tight brown body doesn’t hurt.
In school, abiding rules,
What’s missing from this polish jewel?
Under scope, have to note,
There’s a flaw to what was hope.
See…
She’s is trying to convince me she’s
the sheep amongst wolves.
Yet, except for a layer of clothes
her actions are no different from those.
She spends more time on her ensembles
than establishing her sets of values.
Unable to express her most intimate thoughts
but more than willing to give up her most intimate parts
Afflicting affection on false pretenses
never considering the true effects.
Focus is on things external
so the truth is lost and with it any once of respect.
Now to mend the broken extended limbs.
Allowing in the time spent,
cuz only then will she ever
Comprehend.
Her selfish wishes
became lost of self
and now she has the torment
of what to do with this enormous wealth
only pain can provide.