We play a secret game.
Dangerous, illicit, addictive. 
With each meeting we grow closer.
So wrong.
Hidden in the shadows,
Dark, immoral, seductive.
Kisses melting hearts,
Melding bodies touching, 
Sensing the heat of the unknown known.
We are captives in the game.
Meeting furtively, covertly.
With guilt.
With urgent necessity and force.
With incredible purity of passion.
Hiding the truth from them,
From them.
From ourselves.
Our tongues probe,
Our mouths,
Our flesh.
The unknown becomes well known.
The gloaming is our friend.
Will not betray us.
Keeps us fervent,
Discrete.
Reaching out, holding.
Groping hands grasping
Tentative closeness and warmth.
Avoiding the light.
Needing the welcome coverlet of darkness.
The warmth of the blanketing power of lust.
Encircle me,
Take me in. 
Tender movements becoming fervid.
Roughness replacing the gentle caresses of temptation.
This is the completion of a dream
From a sweaty tossing sleepless night
Long ago,
And once when we were young.
Lips,
Whispering of what may come.
Speaking of what never was.
What can never be.
But this can always be,
This, this, this.
Oh yes, this will ever be.
As your body responds to me.
It makes me whole at long last.
The game is secret.
So wrong.
But it is done,
And will be done forever,
We continue
Seeking the danger,
Glorying in the illicit,
Feeding the addiction.
We shall play the game.