The Escapist - Poem by Kewayne Wadley
I miss the wind,
A sensual exploration that leads, to chase.
An Infatuation of hysteria.
A calm wisp that allures the ears, descending onward, caressing the skin.
Without rhythm it dances about.
Exploring the utmost of depth merely seeking.
Chill bumps arise from the height achieved from the hair on my arms.
The nape of my neck.
Feeling the shiver that echos from the ripples felt deep inside.
I miss it.
The calm simplicity of a longing heart.
Swiftly livid in love,
Aching for another glimpse felt by embrace.
Influential as it spreads farther.
Extending it's reach, trailing obsession.
A relentless throb soon to disappear into an empty space.
There I anxiously await your return.
As I miss you, As I urgently await your return.
To receive the gift of your touch once more.
Before you yet again, escape my grasp
Comments about The Escapist by Kewayne Wadley
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You