Passion

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God, I miss sex
I miss the pit in the stomach
the sweet rush and the savory kisses
feeling and touching and knowing seem similar
we know the difference
satisfied exhaustion.
Fat on life.
Was it living?
Is this death?

Subtle kisses on on your mind,
Hiding in the shade of the unconscious.
A gift from me, placed by you.
A floating image, attempt to guess its shape.
A pleasant afternoon, a guilty pleasure, or merely a cloud?

Passion
is the link between
caressing and scratching
bruising and marking
sweating and glowing
pain and pleasure.

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