She makes dangerous hints,
stepping just a little over the line,
flaunting her secret life,
with letters that can be burnt if necessary.
The coals of her passion only smoulder
in the depths of her eyes,
and she keeps her gaze low,
so I'm left guessing.
In the time between when I saw her last
and her promised return,
I linger in a state of anticipation.
Left with just dangerous hints.
A trail of sparks leading
to what may be an explosive consummation.