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Passion, wish it were...

Updated on September 15, 2012

Inspired by a fellow hubber...


Passion, wish it were…

Intense words that language has given

To movements of warmth of skin contact

Like upon freshly sewn silk, spun of electricity and butterfly

Your hand to the small of my back…

Hesitant, this hand retreats; it is the first contact, and shy

Goes her mind to the past, to the others, to her hurt soul

To love is to risk everything, your ego, your pride and dignity

But that furtive reward lies behind every door, of the many you have closed.

Hands and finger interlock, an age-old symbol of trust,

And a tear falls from your shoulder, as you look away, still guarded.

Trust…is another thing, that shares your burden; but stronger still

Is the animal need for closeness, of acceptance, of completion.

Returning to the memories, of past fires now long burnt dry, your eyes

Wince to the pain, that failure seems to be permanent

The voice deep inside that is all but a whisper,

“ Try again love, for there is no more importance than this,

To love and love more deeply, than your heart can barely resist.”

For life is too short, and tragedies too common, to not break up this arbitrary existence

With something that is timeless, effortless, but not without folly

This thing we know like a hot knife to our senses, a vibrating ecstasy through our chest

A feeling unlike any other, occurs more rare than…

breathing heavier now…with moisture lips are now parted

a soft, longing, imperceptible sound, falls warm from your mouth, your soul

your deep within to my ears, the hair quickly stands upon my neck

you clutch at my body violently, as if I would turn you away…

I won’t, and already knew this, from the place I met you before

The moment I heard your voice, your passion,

The moment I caught your doubting gaze, across the road from your devil

I wish it were easy, to tell you it’s ok

I wish it were timeless, your lust, your longing.

Passion, wish it is…


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