A touch
A sigh
A kiss

Always a display
Of a silken smile upon
Flushed lips.

Hands ripe for
Wandering
Eyes apparently
Asunder.

Cuddling nature
Animal desires
Passion so fierce
It flames like a
thousand fires.

Open and warm
Inviting and sweet
Always seeming to
come to life whenever
We meet.

But a touch
Is just a touch;
A sigh is nothing
More and a kiss could
Be an evil way of
Settling the score.

Within all of these things
I see the tell tale signs
But I know I must be cautious;
I’ve been hurt every time.

These actions echo my deeply
Sought after dreams

And this question
This question
Has taken over my core;
The answer I so fervently search
For, the answer I cannot see:

Does he love me?




Does he love me?









 
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