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.