She hugs the life out of me,
Not in that second of passion
Before the moment of death
When an animal is chased
And grasped in lioness embrace.

She kisses the life out of me,
Not with mid-day sun lips
Which smoulder dangerously
Like a dampened forest fire
Lying in wait for that first shallow breath.

She loves the life out of me
Not with the garment of childlike innocence
Lasciviously cast aside by a woman in earnest.

And with all the emotion of someone
Glancing up at the station clock
Then turning a magazine page
On a deserted railway platform,
She scares the life out of me
When she says quite simply,
It is time for me to go.