Fleeting.
Is the fast pace,
Of a physical attraction.
And a reaction,
That a passion...
Thought kept to forever last.
Begins from a sizzle,
To skip over a simmer to fizzle.
Out.
Like a noodle quick to droop.
Uninvited truth has.
And...
Brings a limp to fantasies!
After minutes,
Of a forgotten heated intimacy.
Snaps...
Unconsciousness.
Back to reality.
Seeing one's blemishes.
And flaws under candlelight.
Does this.
And...
Seldom,
Will not kill a passion to have.
With a dressing fast to leave,
In the midst of a dream...
Witnessed.
Turning into a nightmare.
'Why the rush?
I just poured us some wine.
And you're leaving behind,
Your underwear.
Socks AND shoes.'
'Keep them! '
'But...
What about the snow?
It's everywhere outside.'
'I know.
For whatever the reason,
I have this urgent need to jog! '
'You're almost...
Naked? '
'It's a ritual I acquired.'
'When? '
'After the first glass of wine.
Then the candlelighting,
Began to strengthen my faith.
And I could not resist.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem