disappointed with an unexecuted act,

yet captured by your mesmer-eyes,

your haughty smile that draws me in,

lips so smooth and soft and warm ...

(Will I ever know these lips?

Will they never know mine own?

Might they meet in happenstance,

or forever shy away?)

and our tender virgin hands

which meld in unconsciousness ...

(shall they never hope to explore

or will they be forever curious?)

your hands of rugged power

and mine of flowered flesh

which clasp in growing fury

at the blindness of weak hearts -

rapid, flowing hearts;

pounding, thrashing, assaulting cages

pressed together by magnetic force,

beating singularity ...

(one heart, one mind, one tu-lip press:

two views of passion shown as one ...

kisses violent on the soul

yet softest on the pulse).