She liked how he kissed her,
Passionately:
He showed her the truth of the word.
Not wild hunger,
Shoved against a wall--
None of that was passion.
He held her like a priceless gem,
Like no one had before.
For once someone cared
About leaving her here,
And taking a part of her with him.
For once someone cared
About her state of mind
Should he mess up this romance.
His grip was possessive,
But never too tight,
Giving her freedom to leave.
The comfort of knowing
That she was still free,
Not to be forced on at will.
He held her like she would leave.
But she didn't.
That was passion.
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