Passion 03 Poem by Mario, Lucien, Rene Odekerken

The night air is warm, thick with whispers,
grass bends beneath bare skin, cool and alive.
Stars blink, distant and unaware,
while hands trace stories only the body can tell.

Breath mingles with the scent of earth,
fingertips memorize curves like sacred scripture.
The world fades, shrinking to the
space between heartbeats,
where nothing exists but touch, pulse, need.

A sigh dissolves into the night,
the wind carries it away,
but there, in this moment,
only fire remains.