words A delicate agony, this relentless and driving hot pursuit of a happiness unknown, untasted yet to be caressed... crying to be explored... Love has no features Passion: no face yet their hands stir gentle fingers across my heart unabatingly entwining the gossamer threads of emotion into the canvas of my Soul... Strong and sultry, softly demanding lips would kiss me in places I try to refuse to feel unacknowledged still, they burn no relief awaiting only dimmed embers which shall ignite again whence that breath of desire chances to speak words of longing there again... � K.E.Cline, 1995 |