When Passion Was A Flame

When you feel the burn and love every second of it.

When passion was a fevered flame,

I had no want of guilt or shame.

I fell into a sea of bliss

and rode the sweet waves of your name.

 

No greater love, none such as this.

I drank my thirst without remiss

until your fingers squeezed my throat,

and stars blossomed within a kiss.

 

A feathered wing, a swaying boat,

wet fingers underneath my coat,

neurons flashing within my brain

making sparks fly and senses float.

 

Water puddled into the drain.

We made love again and again

on the floor and against the wall

underneath the moon in the rain.

 

Within the car, behind the mall,

you played me like a little doll

until I collapsed with a grin.

You were my be-all and end-all.

 

Of all the places ever been,

names and faces of other men,

you linger with the faintest touch

like a warm breath upon my skin.

Author's Note

Reviews

[Nima.Hope]

Making love, as fabulous as taking a walk in the heaven, I can see the depth of joy you've been through ma'am. True love doesn't know timing.
Nice Erotica.......
Nima

[Betty Hermelee]

Very sensual and dreamy as well…you really draw the reader into this poem… as we are watching this lovely tryst…..there is so much passion incorporated here……” like a warm breath upon my skin”…..is just one of many to read this poem over and over…..
Best, B

[willweb]

This was definitely hot and steamy. The form fits the feelings and sensuality deeply, pun intended. I am beginning to realize that there is no subject or theme that you can't wrap a beautifully crafted poem around, drawing the reader in and making them one within the stanzas. I could feel the passion, the perspiration and the pleasure that is portrayed here and the satisfaction of experiencing a partner that leaves nothing to the imagination while bringing love to an explosive climax. Yep, hot and steamy.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I could tell you of someone who had this effect on me, one that has never been equaled...
j.

[John the Baptist]

Has the sound of a confession, this one, though here confession and repentance are not the same. We have frank erotica before us, accompanied by a bondage pic. The activity has that frenetic urgency that passion engenders. On the floor? Against the wall? Outside in the rain? Behind the mall? Busy, busy, busy. But nowhere do I hear Piaf singing "No regrets." However the thing ended, the gentleman involved continues to be revered. That's more than a lot of guys can say.