Nostalgic

I wrote this a long time ago. While leafing through some of the poems on my previous blog, it gave an odd sense of deja vu..


Love, who?

Your touch
Lays bare the fire within,
I burn
On blackened embers of sin.

In shadows
Our whispers take shape,
Desire flows
From your lips to my nape.

Your hands
Rummage about reckless,
Hot trails
Of wanton madness.

I surge
Into you to cease,
A blank..
A void dug.. and peace.