It was on September first,
when I first listened to your voice,
It made me feel an overwhelming thirst,
To feel the heat, I didn't have a choice!

You started out slow,
talking as if we're centimeters apart,
Then you suddenly Growled,
the desire scattered in me like abstract art!

I didn't fully understand it then,
How I reached for my shirt and then lower, near the hem,
My skin looked like marmalade,
Your moaning voice is a bittersweet crusade.

I felt like you were whispering in my ear,
making sounds that I didn't know I wanted to hear,
you then shifted your pace,
it took me awhile to realize that this was a chase.

It felt like both of us, together,
soared high, into the sky,
making thunderstorms and any other weather
not knowing that your last moan was actually Good-bye.

Then fear comes
with exaggeratedly elongated fangs
with gasping breathes and hungry growls in the background
Whose feverish savagery is snapping at my heels