When Passion Was A Flame (Interlocking Rubaiyat) Poem by Linda Marie Van Tassell

When passion was a fevered flame,
I had no want of guilt or shame.
I fell into a sea of bliss
and rode the sweet waves of your name.

No greater love, none such as this.
I drank my thirst without remiss
until your fingers squeezed my throat,
and stars blossomed within a kiss.

A feathered wing, a swaying boat,
wet fingers underneath my coat,
neurons flashing within my brain
making sparks fly and senses float.

Water puddled into the drain.
We made love again and again
on the floor and against the wall
underneath the moon in the rain.

Within the car, behind the mall,
you played me like a little doll
until I collapsed with a grin.
You were my be-all and end-all.

Of all the places ever been,
names and faces of other men,
you linger with the faintest touch
like a warm breath upon my skin.