This Love May Fade Poem by Bree Z Love

We made love with convincing power.
No more, delicate flower.
Dainty, of a scent of innocence.
We came to present as diplomatic.
As one should make sense for hiding frantic,
touches that would have been too hast and thorny in apprehension.
But discovery of those masses of inhibitions.
We quicken to avoid the time, so anxious.
Summer bedding of Impatiens.
Just ripped to the blossom from a slight touch.
We will not wait to see; let's keep this hush hushed.