Inconsistent

you like me
but you are telling me
it is time to leave
you
that i must go away
yet your hand
holds the pocket
of my denim
your right hand
pushes me
telling me again
with tears
in your eyes
that i must leave now
yet your lips
are wet
needing my kisses.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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