Generic

Intellect 
Sometimes digs a hole 
that only deepens 
with desire. 
I believe, 
perhaps because I want to, 
that she agrees. 
All this in memory 
of opportunity missed 
and regretted. 
So many years 
gone wasted 
in longing. 
Where is she 
I wonder, 
fantasizing. 
Her tantalizing 
face, round, plain 
and honest. 
Her body seen 
in innocent error 
but forever branded. 
She taunts me still, 
knowing I should have 
declared my love. 
Too late, too late. 
Still her erotic image 
emblazons my memory. 
Her skin covering 
breasts and thighs 
and her Venus Mons. 
Oh, God, I still long 
for her touch 
that never will be. 
Still, she lingers, 
her face and body 
next to me at night.