Flowers at my doorstep.Champagne glass pressed against my lips
His rough hands gently caress my thighs.
His soothing words tingle my ears.
He consumes my thoughts.
I wait for him.
When I am with him I dread the moment he will leave.
His essence lingers behind on my pillow.
Perhaps the only reason I can rest.
Still I know he is not the one.
He has romanced his way into my bed.
He has yet to romance my mind.
By Robinette aka AVID
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