Passion strikes like a beat of a drum,
pounding effortlessly through the soul.
An urge to escape if only for a time,
to the depths of a complete abyss.
Two bodies aflame like embers in a fire,
crave the ultimate satisfaction.
We would like it to last and never burn out,
though it wasn’t made to last.
Passion, as quickly as it came, disperses without cause.
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Comments about this poem (Passion by Michele Wachter )
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