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Love is an untamed force. When we try to control it, it destroys us. When we try to imprison it, it enslaves us. When we try to understand it, it leaves us feeling lost and confused. — Paulo Coelho


When first I'd peered into his dark brooding eyes
there was an undercurrent, fathoms deep pulling me in.
It was sensual tension, the kind a woman never forgets.
A storm brewed inside of me and each time we met
I feared lightning had struck— a bolt to my heart.
His touch seared my thoughts with a burning flame
but I cared not that it might lead to my demise—  
I submitted to my desires and he to his, without regret.
To have denied it would have destroyed us.

He was never mine for the taking
but it mattered not when he drew near.
It was only for him that my heart ached.
We shared a passion, unrestrained— untamed.
We loved with wild abandon,
and in his arms, there was nothing I need fear.

I denied the shame I should have felt
but I was not going to be berated by anyone
or anything. A passion like ours had to be satisfied.
A bond from which we never wanted to be freed.

There was always lightning between us.
Thunder roared in my head with each deepened kiss.
I heard it in his breathless sighs against my ear—  
felt it when his fingertips danced across my skin. 
I murmured against his stubbled cheek
of a hunger I'd never had sated— 
a thirst I'd never thought to slake.
It was a serenade of lovers that we sang together
as if each time was a renewal, an awakening of Spring.

Love was always like a torrid storm at his side,
We floated on waves higher than at flood tide,
crashed in its ebb when desire was fulfilled.
Uninhibited, he sought my lips, and we feasted
without need or want for anything more.
Time rushed through our months together,
years as if they were grains spilled in an hourglass.
The feast is still as sweet, the passion as strong.
If we're wrong to feel the tethering we share— 
neither of us care, for we will not be deprived
the love we savor with wild abandon
nor the silent whispers to each other's hearts.
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