What is it? Is it the spark in the eye of your lover as you caress her body under the sky?
Is it the whisper in her voice as she moans your name, the way your bodies touch as they erupt in flame?
Is it the physical attraction that made you speak to her anyway, even after she cut her eyes and her attitude shoo’d you away?
Do you know it when you see it, lust for it when you read it? Does it touch the core of your being and make you not want it but need it?
Is it the sound of my voice as I escort you to fantasy, taking hold of your mind, discarding your reality?
Is it the way my words caress you like a form fitting dress, accentuating your curves until you look your very best?
Is it a warm summer’s breeze, captivating, intriguing? The origination a mystery but it’s existence divine indeed?
Do you crave the attention from a lovers words as well as his touch? Do you need him to say I love you as he enters you with his thrusts?
Is passion the touch of his lips on yours with the lights down low? Slowly as his mouth starts to explore your body down low.
Do you miss it when it’s gone like a echo in your soul? A hunger burning your throat, a story only half told?
Is it the ending you crave? Is that what drives you insane? When your heart beats crazy and pleasure overwhelms your brain?
Do your neighbors know your name? Like thunder with the pouring rain. Repeating every letter, every night, frame by frame.
Is passion what you claim? Or is it the gift that you bring? Is it what matters most, is it what consumes your brain?
I know what passion is, I’ve seen it in her eyes. And with every kiss I feel I’ve died to be reborn between her thighs.
With every touch I feel I can fly, her lips making me so high. My toes curl and my voice moans and when she asks, I can not lie. I am hers and she is mine. I am in love with her body and too, with her mind.
With her pleasure and her games, her creativity drives me insane. She is my muse and responsible for every word I write on every page.
Passion, without her I’d never be the same