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| The Last Day |
| by Angela Pearce |
There is something in the way this woman moves as she strides across the room
In her mischievous pose, her knowing secret glance as she passes by me
There is something in the way this woman smiles as our eyes meet in the first moments
As time stands still and we are presently standing in our private rendezvous
There is something in the way this woman presses her lips tightly gripped along my mouth leaving me breathless, taunted and tortured with beyond desire
There is something in the way this woman leans her body against mine as she shelters with such ease and forces the flame within burning me with her fire
There is something in the last day she says to me leaving me questionable in
The obvious state she has brought me to
There is something in the way she makes me tremble as she teases me with taunting titillating ways, leaving me yearn yet for just another day
There is something in the last day leaving an image embedded in my mind
Memories of stirred passion, exquisite visions of shared ecstasy, craved yearnings
There is something in the way I call to her in an invitation of outlined motive
Where she has become a part of this embedded portrait she has possessed for me
There is something in the way this woman can challenge my warrior strength
In a state of weakness bringing me to starvation and breathless force to my knees
The question lingers in my mind as I continue to follow this element we have created
The obvious state remains the answer and what is it in the last day that leaves the mark of time on one another?
There is something in the way we are when we are together the last day
A blossoming of a love unspoken in this haven we live in as one
There is something about this woman who has mysteriously come into my life
There is something in the last day about this woman who has stolen my heart away. |
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