Poetry

Suspense

Its this kind I just cant stand

I want it yesterday

I want it to be tomorrow

It’s so tangible you can touch it

So pungent you can smell it

I’m famished, I can taste it

The mans so close, I could touch him

He’s so warm, I can smell him

It’s so ripe I can eat him

It’s the kind I just can’t stand

I want it now

I want it to be now

However, maybe it’s the kind that’s worth waiting for