Dormant Passions

I fell in love, not with your eyes, but from    
Your caress that was no ripe kiss of mouths,      
But a brushed cheek against cheek; for as long      
As it left me those feelings that would rouse      
The dormant, swirling passions from within      
My bosom, there the beating of my heart      
Would accelerate. This strengthens the sin      
Of reaction, forged in that lesser part      
Of valour: indiscretion (in the blush      
At the thought of your fucking craving). Wired      
Dreams make simple reality. The flush      
Of heat affects shallow breathing. It fired      
New sentiments I'd remember again,      
After you'd gone, to relive love's sweet pain.