Is this love or is it lust?

Will this last forever or fade away to dust?

The way you make my knees goes weak

Says it's something of which we shouldn't speak.

But the way I feel when you run your fingers through my hair

Reminds me of deeper feelings there.

This depth of emotion you still inspire

After so many years warms me like a fire.

And that twinkle in your eye

Is sweeter than any pie!

Your kiss still sets my soul aflame

With a fire I can never tame.

Be this love or be it lust,

Our little bubble of romance will surely never bust.

You Think You Know Me . . .
You think you know me,
But this is all an act that I put on.
The me you see is simply
The face I present to the world.
There are many facets To my personality;
You see but a few.
How many layers are there,
Beneath the facade,
Behind the smile and the things I say?
Or is this just another act I've put on?
You think you know the real me . . .

He never saw my tears
Nor cared about all my fears.
The tears I shed meant nothing to him;
He walked away every night on his selfish whim.

When we met,
He promised roses and moonlight,
But all he gave me were
Broken promises and long, lonely nights.

He made himself blind to my tears,
And made himself deaf to my spoken fears.
All that mattered to him
Was satisfying his own lustful whims.

When, at long last, I was free,
My tears were not of sadness, but of release.
No more subjugation or despair,
My heart and soul, I could finally repair.