Petes Poetry

I want her

The want of her.
Is a drug.
Feel her purr.
Like a kitten on a rug.

Clawed her way into my genetics.
The feeling she gives is electric.

Zapped in to reality.
My heart, the fatality.

Warped and drained.
Consumed in pain.

Tears flow that much.
They form a river to the stars.
Oh how so I yearn her touch.
But for now, I admire from afar.

Pete.