Love For Passion

At the edge of

Fevered dreams

It came to me again,

That question… the one

That defined who I am,

Kept me up nights,

Haunted me deeply,

Never letting go.

Would I trade love

For passion?

Cold and lonely nights,

Stacked up like the

Memory of sand dollars

In a hand the shade of

Coffee beans, days of

Strife and stifled laughter

Recollections of touch and sun, 

Blending mind, soul and body

Gone…given up for uncertain certainty.

Given up for …love?

Would I trade love for passion?

Could passion come again?

I am not a gambler.

I could lose, as surely as I could win.

And…if I win…what does that

Make me?

At the edge of

Fevered dreams,

It comes to me in fragments,

Like an ancient quilt top…

All I sacrificed to run my

Fingers through the spoils,

To feel the sunlight on my skin,

To know passion once again…

Tulips the color of lipstick stains,

Blowing in the breeze along the

Rails of open porches, sun-baked

Peeling paint, your mouth, the sweetest thing.

Trading moments for years, as the memories

Swirl round, reborn like living entities as

You breathe out and I breathe in,

Blending mystery, magic skin on skin…

And you come to me again,

Passion, but not permanence.

Fleeting, but not forever. Like the

Dream of ancient quilt tops.

The essence of life…

Brief, but beautiful.

In the end, I will bury my face there,

Of this I am certain, breathing in memory

of melding colors and laughter,

Knowing what I’ve done, the choice

I made when I was still quite young,

All I took and all I gave, holding up

One feeble hand against the sun above,

Breathing in and breathing out,

Passion for love.