When I hear his voice,
When I see his face,
my heart drops because
my infatuation makes me
weak.
As I fall to my knees,
his gentle lips caress me
and give me ease.
He is my foreboden fruit.
When he touches my hand,
When he holds my hair,
my mind screams with
fantasies.
As I lay in bed stressed,
his loving body lays next
to me and in his
arms I fall asleep.
No good will come of this.
When he stares into my eyes,
When I see his smile,
I become lost in
him.
I want to be lost in him.
No good will come of this.
As I fall to my knees,
As I lay on the ground,
clutching my heart because of the pain,
his gentle lips caress me,
his loving arms pick me to my
feet.
He looks into my eyes,
wiping the tears as they fall.
And as I kissed his cheek,
his ghost was no longer
in front of me.
He was my foreboden fruit.
*This poem is dedicated to those who have lost a significant other.*
