Liaisons After Dark (Poetry)

The secret bliss, the shy-born joy of meeting
breathless — and those stolen minutes fleeting
the pulse erratic, tongue-tied, flushed with knowing
desire’s quick flood runs close to overflowing.

We bob on currents — helpless — whirled ecstatic
danger thrills — no drug feels more fantastic
no fairground ride could leave one quite so shaken
or anxious that reality might waken

and snatch away euphoria — that sweetness
of touching — and imagined near-completeness
more poignant when such passion is forbidden
and must, at all costs, stay contained and hidden.

Impossible, this doomed, indulgent rapture
emotion’s rush too wild to tame or capture
and thus we meet — submit to wants tabooed
sigh guiltily between each interlude

and plan the next clandestine date to measure
the stretch of longing and the aching pleasure
that cannot last — no fire burns hot forever
these flames will cool — turn fickle as the weather.