Katoptronophilia and the Philosopher’s Stone

******

“He leaned into whisper some of his unmentionable things in her ear.

She chuckled softly, pressed a finger to his lips and purred, “shhhhh, no talking - let us be as mirrors.”

******

He leaned into her, whispering,

His most unmentionable things.

Gently teasing her ears, softly

She chuckled, yielding.

Pressed a finger to his lips,

Let there be no talk.

Let us be as mirrors.

Our flesh a map to explore.

Use the heavens for senses,

We'll navigate the stars .

He feared there'd be reflections,

Of shadows yet to be.

She knew fears were but shadows,

Waiting to be freed.

He smelled of earth and sunshine,

Sage, on a bright and clear day.

Her skin was bathed in ocean salt,

Lotus blossoms, but only through the dark.

Her fingers danced like butterflies,

His skin was her cocoon.

His kisses were as bee stings,

Her flesh suited his old wounds.

His fingers traipsed as spider legs,

Drawing out his passion.

Her kisses were his elixir,

Plump and filled, an esoteric knowledge.

Their bodies were of alchemy,

A ripened, philosopher’s stone.

With every bite of pomegranate,

Another seed was sown.

He pressed a finger to her mouth,

Their bodies violently quaked.

Her silence was his avalanche,

His spellbound ways her path.

There's a certain liberty in shadows,

When eyes lock, and echo past.