Passion makes him so colourful to describe & more perfect than the full moon on its' 14th day. He quivers at my touch, like a drop of dew hanging on the tip of a leaf; not knowing whether he should let go & fall into the abyss or hang on further. His body radiates a warm glow with just minute touches of flamingo pink. His lips become the velvety petals of a blood rose. His lashes brush against his cheeks like dark curtains sweeping across to shut the light beyond it. His green-brown eyes dilate until his irises are no more but a ring of emerald around the mystical depths of his pupils. His muscles flexes and relaxes like that of a thouroughbred anticipating a race, all power and strength but well reined in & in control; power waiting to be released. His actions rough as our passion increase yet so tender and gentle. I know that all this is due to his love for me. And I revel in the fact that he is mine, forever mine as my passionate lover, my husband.
~Jinni~
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