In days of youth's yore;

to conquer while
striking a
winning pose
may have been  the
breath of life for many
a young man.

"I love you",
assertively whispered from
her moist and
fevered lips was,
a call of the wild
and a vindication
of one's manhood.

Her legs wrapped tightly around you,
like a spider that is spinning its silken
masterpiece around its paralyzed prey.

Regaining our breath together
as our sweaty bodies glisten in the light of
an August's 2am moon.

A beauty that I  never wanted to conquer but one, that I just wanted to savor and to...

never forget.

Was it love?
Is it love?
Is this love?

Forgive me for a moment but, about this?
I am just...

*white flagging it