Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

 
Tis an ache, soul burning this passion,
That for which there can be no ration.
Something delightful for which is an affliction.
For which there can be no divine benediction.

Fire that burns without flame, 
Raging without fuel, not to be tamed. 
Desire becomes passions mistress. 
Tis a need that angels did bless. 

Soft silken caress, 
Upon velvet skin. 
This be not a simple test. 
Shaking touch, that is where we begin.

Tis where touch meets desire, 
That fans this flames fire. 
Open heart, and soul tis what is required. 
When souls are vexed with desire. 

© 2016 Dell Anne Raye 
All Rights Reserved