Echoes of our passion resonate through me, sending shivers all through my body. My God we made beautiful love together and now that you're gone that love's gone forever. I swear if I ever meet another lover of your stature she'll be a treasure, but to find one of your measure boarders never. I have to believe I can recapture our passionate rapture.
My mind tells me there will never be another coupling like you and me, but ultimately the memory in my body reminds me of a time we made love ever so beautifully. Now you're gone from me and I have only a memory to satisfy me and echoes of our intimacy to serenade me.
Nothing could ever replace this sensation. This poem is my loves abbreviation. This poem is a logical deviation; not just a use of self expression. I find I'm not good at self reservation, especially when it comes to out unspoken communication. Now I have to deal with this alienation, knowing I'll never share in your elation, so I hold on to echoes of our consummation.