The Object Of My Passion

I’ve tried so many ways and thoughts,
to abandoned my first love,
can’t survive through a single day
without that fiery craving gnawing,
driving me utterly insane,
forced to return to that honey,
my heart always feeling the intense rush,
such an exquisite high reviving my life,
once I surrender again so completely,
unto the object of my passions.

Then I languish for a while in the torment of guilt
that I ever was unfaithful to this perfect encounter,
wandering around thinking another lover
would ever bring me any true satisfaction.

Eventually, in such burden of shame,
do I return to the place we first meet,
always so relieved that I am accepted again.

How I drool at the thought of being reunited
anxiously ravished by anticipation,
nearly sick at my stomach from the wait,
before we are one again.

There is no moment more intense for me
than when I repeat the pleasure we have shared,
it brings me an inexorable rhapsody,
placing my lips upon the smooth flesh of my companion,
one kiss of gratitude,
whispering in pure unequalled joy,
“thank you diet coke!”

Thought for the week: "When do they give us go signs to match all the stop ones?