The Collection Poem, by Willy Beeman, at My poetic side

Past all the grins and forgotten fuck faces.
The homes that I wrecked plus all the hearts that I've taken.

If I had to, I would say I had a problem...
Every beautiful woman I met I thought I want em.

Since I was young I've been doing the unexpected.
It was always music to my ears hearing that they had been neglected.

They adore it when you listen, really care and engage in deep talk.
Ensure their pleasure, manifest their wants.

After I'd get em some claimed I was no good.
But they stick with me because the pain feels so good.

From the Heiress to The Receptionist , The Unfaithful Wife.
The One I'll Never Have to The One I Want To Do Right.

The Fighter, The Paramedic, The Horse Trainer In Miami.
My California Girls and the few that just can't stand me.

This is my masterpiece, this is my art.
They are my vice, my collection of charms.

Comments +

To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.