- Erotic Poetry
- The Leech
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My paint is grey
Brushed in your hair
You are the leech
Attached to my chair
It doesn't have blood
So why even try
You're sucking that wood
And thinking you're sly
But don't be that girl
That ruins the maple
There's nothing to prove
While living unfaithful
- COMMENTS
Anonymousover 7 years agoYou are writing angry stuff that is personal and only you understand what it is actually about - yes we get the gist but a little more detail would make for a better poem - also, one poem a day is quite enough - don't bleed yourself dry and bore us to tears -Anony-ass
