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.
Comments about this poem (Passion by Michele Wachter )
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