passion

passion causes nights spent alone, focusing
on a need, a desire that fuels pornographic daydreams
trips marked with wetness, soaking, dripping, tripped out fantasies
confusing me into telling the truth; this isn't about lust, at least not completely
because you're making me conquer new horizons
new horizons in that...i don't write love poems, but right now love about adequately phrases my desires
and want and need uncharacterized by anything i've ever experienced before
passion pushes me into admitting these things, because as i said this isn't lust it's more
confessions fuel something i wouldn't normally do, this shows me my true feelings for you
passion causes cycles begun with soaking, dripping, tripped out fantasies
but ends with lovely, being-held-by-you daydreams
lovesick, i don't know; sick over you maybe but never of you
i want my inner goddess to be the rain that falls thick above you
and i want to surround you in my intensity
and show you the true depths of what my passion for you does to me
i want to be the smile i hear and sense on your lips
you can be the often-remembered and felt fingertips on my hips
and the moan that originates from my valleys and crevices
i'll want to hold to capture the love and passion that makes me want to touch it
that moment, that moment that occurred briefly
between wanting you and wanting you in my bed next to me
that moment was love
that moment is what this poem is made of
see there i said it, admitted it, passion pushed me into it
that moment is one i keep reliving madly in between my pornographic daydreams
and can taste on my lips almost as vibrantly as the flavor of your skin and even better together it seems
and it keeps haunting me, the passion causing me to reflect upon a happiness i don't rightfully deserve
i want passionate moments like that mixed in with the ones that cause wet dreams
and that, sensual lover, is what makes this poem a love poem
i feel vulnerable around you - you make me admit things.