How can you hide?

What is so evident, so clear that it wears on your skin like boils?

Even as you think, you dream, the kiss is like honey, but eats you like poison-ivy

Like a man hanging by a thread over a cliff, is this love a dangerous thing that will haunt me for all eternity?

Just a bit longer to make it

Just a bit … a little bit longer

What is it to define the limitation of passion?

What is so evident that it threatens to incinerate everything?

Whereas you think that the touch shivers your skin

And kisses burn your lips like a lovely spice

Deliriously tucked away in an memory, but like it

You’re tucked away in a padded room

Is it just a bit longer now?

Why is it so dangerous holding the thing which is painfully obvious?

When you think, you dream, the touch brings your world to the knees

Like a man to die on Old Sparky

And the electric embrace of the taboo drowns me in pleasure, pain and desire like BDSM

With suspense that’s pounding and clouding my head

The moment is… at hand…

And so it comes, like lovers in throes

Spasmodically, the evidential truth cannot be hidden;

But, like Christ, would you deny yourself

Deny me?

For all powers of passion,

The truth is my liberty

And my prison