Love's not a gentle summer breeze,
Nor whispered secrets 'neath the trees.
It's not a slow and steady flame,
But embers wild, a whispered name.
Love's heart, a furnace, burning bright,
Consuming doubt in searing light.
It melts the frost of winter's hold,
A wildfire story yet untold.
Your eyes, twin suns that scorch and sear,
A molten heat that draws me near.
My pulse a drum, a frantic beat,
As stolen glances, oh so sweet,
ignite a spark, a burning brand,
Across the space, a touch of hand.
A sudden heat, a breathless gasp,
This love's a torrent, not a clasp.
We move in circles, drawn by fate,
Two moths that dance around the grate.
The air alive with whispered sighs,
A silent language in your eyes.
The world around us fades to gray,
Lost in this moment, swept away.
Our bodies language, fierce and bold,
A story whispered, yet untold.
Sweat paints a canvas, warm and damp,
A symphony of touch, a burning lamp.
Inhibitions melt, like morning dew,
Replaced by passion, raw and true.
Kisses like embers, fierce and bright,
Ignited by a starlit night.
We move as one, a tangled mess,
A fiery dance, no need for dress.
The heat intensifies, a crescendo's call,
Reaching a peak, then giving all.
Sated whispers, soft and low,
The embers glowing, afterglow.
Love's aftermath, a peaceful sigh,
Contentment lingers in your eye.
Limbs entwined, a gentle hold,
A story written, yet untold.
Love's fire may wane, the flames may die,
But embers glow, a memory high.
A bond is forged, a searing mark,
Love's fiery essence, in the dark.
This love, a brand upon the soul,
A story whispered, taking hold.
For love's a fire, fierce and bright,
A searing heat, that burns so right.
About the Creator
Moharif Yulianto
a freelance writer and thesis preparation in his country, youtube content creator, facebook
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Comments (1)
Love how you start your poems in the same way. it creates a unique style!