Gone Poem by robert hartdegen

Soft finger tips swirling in soft areas, wet lips finding wet areas.

Hard objects in warm places.

The feeling of a kiss as hands explore a body.

A gasp of air while a body is in motion.

The sensation of pain grabbing for pleasure.

A firm voice for a willing ears and a needing soul

A small measure of trust of a mile of lust.

A soul being set free by an unknown force.

A single spark to let lose a monster.

A movement in time that translates through space, holding still.

Where a second becomes a day, an hour a year, a year a life time.

In that binding chaos, a light.

A light from within.

A light, not given from the heavens, not stolen from the gods.

Nearly a light from inside.

The light warms the blood, holding each drop in a bath of warmth

before letting go.

The blood, now filled with passion, charges to the heart.

The heart feeding on this passion, forces with rage, this passion to

the brain.

The brain, confused by onset of extreme emotion, lets loose.

Arms grabbing for unseen handles.

Hands reaching outward.

Legs, gripping, trying not to let go.

Hair, standing on end, shivering.

Sweat dropping, beading on every inch of skin.

Fire erupting, a birth of energy, from somewhere deep inside.

This energy, clawing, ripping, seething desperately trying to escape

into daylight.

It grabs the soul, the body, the mind, showing it's true wonderful

power.

Before long, it is shared with the world.

It slows the being feed to the lungs.

Then, as if by design, it cools.

Cools the legs.

Cools the arms.

Cools the living world around it.

And done, done just like nothing was ever there.

Done and gone.

Leaving only a brief memory.

Gone, like it never lived at all.