She made her delivery, to his little shack. sometimes she must crawl in through the window, or creep in through the back. To make that delivery, the one he could do without, he never asked, and didn't have to, so many delivers were made to his house. She thought she loved him, so she delivered for free, he didn't have to ask her, but she delivered on her knee. I feel sorry for her, the one he doesn't miss, she leaves him, in sorrow, without a towel, or even a kiss. . .
Reason for writing:
Keep Your head up, ladies, and don't play yourself.
Birth sign: Libra
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by Erica Hughes.