it is not just about breathless lips and desperate fingertips-
when night falls and stars hide out of sight,
when exhaustion shows its face
and the mundane creeps in,
will you place your hand in mind
and caress love back into my skin?
when time passes and the past begins to fade,
will you remember the fire in my voice,
the poetry in my name,
or will I be reduced to
just another one of your
escapes?
A.P. Bastian 