my cup overfloweth
and who is to say what is and is notpassion, it pours forth out of my soul
in hunger for your kiss, your touch;
like a fine Cab i drink it in and it intoxicates
my desire. passion spills from me, and i find
myself longing to inhale every inch
of your being; it guides my hand
so words fall from my pen like pounding
rain upon a tin roof, it is a fountain
of delight that washes over me
and in those moments of blissful
rapture causes my body in turn
to wash completely over you....
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