Intensity of old

        When
we made love it was with the intensity of old. He was all I could see. The
guilt feelings I thought I should feel never surfaced.  We spent the next few days and nights
together, completely immersed in each other. It made me sad to have to leave
him, and I dreaded going home. As I lay in Mathew’s arms I tried to compare my
love for him to my love for Max and realized there was none, they were
completely different. 



Lisa Loomis (Casanova Cowboy--a novel) On Amazon