The feeling I get when I think of you, compels me to be the best I can be.
The visions I have of you, causes me to want you more.
Many won’t understand this feeling, because they’ve never felt passion like this before.
I’ve never felt passion like this before.
I thought I knew what passion felt like, until you walked into my life and showed things I’ve never felt before.
I still don’t know what you’ve done to me.
I still can’t understand where my passion was before.
How could I have lived all of these years, not knowing these feelings? I’ve never felt passion like this before.
Can words really explain my feelings?
Can I even begin to express myself in a none rhythmic poetic poem that doesn’t sound like a beautiful song?
Because the passion you’ve made me feel, should be written as a beautiful love song.
It should be written by the greatest of musicians, and played by an orchestra and sang by the highest tenor and the lowest bass singer.
Would that then give you an idea of the passion I feel when I’m not with you?
My heartbeat was sprinting. My pulse was racing. My body felt elevated. I’ve never felt passion like this before.
I could have stayed in the moment forever. If I could have frozen time in that very moment, I would have stayed in that moment for ever.
How do you explain an orgasmic experience? How do I write in words that will help you understand the thoughts that go through my head? It’s impossible. It cannot be recreated in words. I would have to use every word available to man and every language spoken by every person on the planet.
I would have to use the birds in the air and fish in the sea and the animals on the land and the even every grain of sand. I would have to use the rain forest and the infinite space in the sky. I would have to use the infinite power of the sun and harness it into words.
It’s impossible. It’s incomprehensible. It’s inconceivable. It’s a dream, a vision, a thought and a feeling. I’ve never felt passion like this before.
And then I opened my eyes. I looked around, heartbeat still racing, pulse still throbbing. The water still keeping me warm, the bubbles in the bath covering my body. My hand stopped moving. It had done its job.