You silenced my quivering lips
with the gentle touch of your fingertips.

Just give me a fighting chance
for true romance.

I miss that look of DESIRE in your beautiful eyes.

You are haunting me
with the memory
of your touch
and your kiss
and your face

Then again. matters of the heart are never practical.

My life is a play. . . in progress. I apologize to the audience and the cast, the genre is still undecided.

You are just a "thing" to her,
I promise baby,
you'd be everything to me.

There goes trust. There goes dignity. There goes innocence. You can have your shirt too.

What is it about the human condition, that we have to bleed to feel alive ?

Undefined existence of abstractions of young hearts.