skin burns in the absence
of a quick hand
a cold touch.
Fast Love.
rushing through the pace
of ignorance
flying by the
ones who said
Stop.

flesh aches in the longing
of one love
gone bad
voices echo
off walls of steel...
so solid
yet afraid to feel
the Fast Love
coming to a
Stop.

lips quiver
after their words
have been said
and they wonder
if Fast Love
was the right love
or if they are just missing
Your Touch.

and from Fast love
blooms hurtful angst
where Fast Words
used to Rush
they slowly
fall to a
Stop.

10-30-96

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©Denise Angela Celeste