Is this a passion

I try and write about it; but my once nimble fingers are lost. Trembling in the presence of naivety. I try and explain it, but my voice loses it's sound. It's taut in the air, hoarse to the ear. I want to feel it; to touch it. I want to envelope it within my being; within my very actuality. But I can only expeirence the burning wrath of young love. The thing that grips me so tightly, that whispers to me through the dark. The thing that crawls to me, chases me and adores me with every fiber of it's being.



Ignorance and bliss. It is warming, before it cools. It seeps through my pores; rains on the surface of my skin. One day, it will come to an end; a shower of doubt will soon be cast upon us. But for now, we live in the moment, caught in a limbo between right and wrong. We catch each others wanting breath. We hold each other in our arms.



Our heart beats pulpate to the rhythm of our thoughts. A fire runs coarse through our veins. A fire blisters the surface of our skins, we are warm in the violent winter air. I am warmed when you take me close to you.



The two of us, we are bound. Bound together by our misconceptions of the general rules of emotion; but bound by something. And that is more than nothing. Though I cannot explain what is it like to feel as I do, I can try. Though it isn't easy to type this out, to see the truth spelled out in front of my face, I can try; just as I can try, to Make It Last.