When I fear I’ve run out of things to write,
I get pulled into your searching gaze
And realize I could never depict the true essence of your being,
The intricacies of your soul,
The depth of your past sadness,
The height of your ever building passion,
The fortress of your love,
The caress of your hand,
Your kiss against my skin.
For every rendition would still leave me
Wishing, lusting, longing for one more night.
–Written by Sandy Heights