With loves revelations,
The pulse quickens, heart too weak for present conditions.
My old life begins to fold around me like a prison,
Losing sleep from lack of inhibitions in my present position.
Whispered love songs only increases mounting friction,
They caress me and I can't help sighing as I listen,
Pen touches paper, you are my every composition,
Will the flame burn steady or consume like a forbidden addiction?
© Milan Lopes