The tips of his fingers, so
Heated that they could barely skim the surface,
Of their flushed bodies and entangled limbs, an
Oasis so vast and yet so out of reach that
Deep into the forest, the light which shines within,
That’s what every cranny hid, and every nook beheld.
Eyes meet boldy and skin lights up feverishly,
And fingers play by skilfully, down that
Curvy spine. Goosebumps alight with the
Lightest of touch, and sprawled fingers trace
Mindless patterns and oh, how that in turn
Makes him lose his own (mind).
Life gives life, and breath forms breath,
And words forms words to replace the
Fire dancing within,
And oh what a frenzy, unstoppable in its demands,
Oh what an epiphany, that this could mean life,
Because what is this, if not life,
And what is life, if not this?
And when their lips touch, it all bursts up,
Which one fire, and which one its flame,
But how could it even be different
Aren’t they both the same?
Where does he start and where does she end?
So the night grows up, and the sky changes form
But the fire doesn’t die, as is its norm
Every little scent, and every touch imprinted
Reminds her of the fervour, and sets her ablaze instead.