An intimate evening
Surprise flour
Breathing on the shoulders,
Flying sounds.
Cheeks blissfully
Flamed,
Mouth inspired
Already was crimson.
Sensitive hands
Caressed the body.
Moments of unity
The heart is sewed.
Shook legs,
Mind was drowning.
Gone anxiety,
The oil spilled.
In the passions of fury
Of souls,
Without interval
Two did love
'mind was drowning' viscerally brought me into the poem....
is passion furious..? Ahhh... no, fury is passionate...
Thank you for sharing
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