When I stroke her hair
she doesn't say a word,
pretending she doesn't notice,
doesn't care.
I pretend I stroke them
kinda randomly,
not thinking of anything,
not feeling anything.
When I stop,
I know she craves for more,
but she won't tell me,
no.
And when I stop
she bets I wish I didn't,
but she knows well
that I won't admit it.
-
Author:
Peter Balkus (
Offline) - Published: September 14th, 2017 17:16
- Category: Love
- Views: 35
- Users favorite of this poem: Tris Eaton, Adam Shirley.
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Comments3
Very well said. I enjoyed that very much.
Thank you.
Sometimes we are weary if we admit to enjoying our partner stroking our hair, in case they think that we are asking for more. Silence can golden at times. Just enjoy it. Well written piece.
Thank you.
Lovely piece, added to my favorites, well done.
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