Dreams within
an illusion-ed living.
Passions that build up
with the
unfulfilled desires.
A solitary night
that breathes
upon my skin,
Wishes
with a muffled silence
in the cold,
for a fire.
The gentle touch of love.
The all-encompassing eyes
that admire.
Tight embraces
of souls in the dark.
Conversations
that would go haywire.
The shuffling of the satin sheets.
Moans of pleasure
echoing through joy,
Perspiring dreams
turning to reality.
Stark nakedness
in coy convoy.
Such wishes and desires
held close
In a heaving bosom
each night.
Sighs of longing
instead of
satiety.
A made-up love
of a forlorn sight.
Many a flame
of the candles lit,
Reflected in beads
of grieving ire.
Satin sheets ruffled
every morning,
Still wait
in the cold for the fire.
