She swore at me like nettles,
brushed against ever so gently,
a tingling that bowled over, boiling
spine severed at the base.
On a sandy beach, a little lake
there we explored each other’s Armageddons
unveiling premise of a passion
struggling to congeal.
That was no night for hours
no clock could contain so many seconds
pressing the letter upon each other
of an impending expiration date.
The sweet and bitter always mingle
in memories of love and hate.