To belong and possess

purely literary but it strikes home, does it not?


At the end of the day, I just want to belong. In somebody's arms, I want to feel strong. Even when all things go wrong. Find me that somebody to whom I belong. Someone who is willing to be near me. When I lose my figure and body. When wrinkles begin to say 'wassup', He tells me 'you're beautiful, so shut up'. When my hair begins to grey. A man who truly says and means 'it's okay'. And when my eyesight begins to weaken. He still sees me emerging as his beacon. And when some of my teeth fall away, He'll smile at me lovingly anyway. Because to him, I taste like raw nectar. And I'll always belong in his sector. Someone whom I can trust blindly. Enclosed in a room full of vixens so pretty. Fights the conflicts within his heads. Eventually choosing to come home to me instead…

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About Jonathan Caswell

Mr. Caswell has been composing poetry at least since High School. He has been on WORD PRESS for ten years and contributes to two other blogs beside this one. This blog has a Christian emphasis but all bloggers are welcome. Mr. Caswell chooses to---with permission--re[post material of interest

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