She had honeyed lips and a hot kiss;
Rolling red hair and a piercing blue stare.
To say it lightly: she was “Heroine incarnate”.
An easygoing, angle-faced darling,
who got caught up in a storm,
and hurt for the wrong reasons.
Of course, back on nights when sleep was out of reach,
and I was close enough to hear her breathe,
I would feel complete, for a bit,
and then slowly kiss down her cheek.
Our lips, colliding like rolling thunder,
driven by blood and pumped by Clamoring Hearts.
We fueled a fleeting night of passing passion,
allowing our bodies to mold into a more-perfect form.
Drowning in quick currents of flowing ecstacy,
we gasp with labored breathes for morning,
as a soothing sigh cascades across the trembling air
and we collapse into each other like dying stars;
Our hearts flaring wildly like untameable Suns.