Heated Passions

What manner of passion do you want?

Soft, easy, gentle?

Hard, driving, captivated?

Slow and subtle,

tracing fingers along your softest of skin,

lingering kisses,

leaving a trail of my lips across quiverinf flesh.

Feeling you pull me to you,

feeling that incessant need,

that instant gratification of want.

Bodies tangled in a miss-mash of writhing flesh,

my back, raked and bleeding from your urgency,

and your eyes,

staring into mine, pleading,

to take us to another realm of desire.

Droplets of salty rain,

mix with each other,

and the moment draws ever closer.

You cry for more,

I will not deny you,

and then more, for you are my better-half.

Always ... in all ways.