He answers to no one, he’s his own master,
Take him to task and he’ll promise you disaster,
However, ask for his kindness and he will deliver,
Ask him for love and you’ll soon see your skin shiver.
**
He has a heart of gold, if you’re kind,
Do anything for anyone, he truly won’t mind,
But do him wrong — oh boy, I don’t suggest,
Because it’s his revenge he does the best.
**
He loves openly, honestly and boldly,
There’ll not be a day you see him treat you coldly,
He’ll wrap you in a soft cocoon of bliss,
And shower every inch of your body in an ecstatic kiss.
**
He hurts quietly, in solitude,
He’s pining silently and not being rude,
He’ll give you a chance at amends, or maybe two,
After that you’ll be history and he’ll be through.
**
He hunts this world for the life you lead,
Nothing will stop him, you’ll see him bleed,
His morals are up their with the very best,
And he’ll put you through your paces, he’ll blatantly test.
**
He squanders his enemies, tossing them aside,
You’ll never understand but he has nothing to hide,
This world is his oyster and he’ll live his dreams,
But don’t take him for granted because he’s not always as he seems.
**
Tomorrow is for the future as he lives for today,
Yesterday is gone and he tethered the price asked to pay,
If you are honoured with his attendance, know you’ve been blessed,
He’ll right your world and ensure you’re less stressed.
**
Take his hand and become his loving wife,
Knowing the two of you will have a blessed life,
Once you’ve won his heart, he’ll be yours forever,
Because he’ll shelter you from any future stormy weather.
Please click the link below my name to read more of my work. I would also like to thank you for taking the time to read this today and for all your support.
If you enjoy this piece, you may enjoy this one too.
Please visit my website if you'd like more information on my newly published book, Battle Angel : The Ultimate She Warrior.
Originally published on Medium
About the Creator
Colleen Millsteed
My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.