When I Dream on Fire

I close my eyes and I know I’ll fall for anything that drops from those beautiful lips.

When he stirs his fingers I think he knows how to strum every part of me.

It’s a slow burn that spreads to every part of me.

He doesn’t need to say a word. I already know.

In the middle of the night when my fingers find hidden places to make magic in moonlight, I wonder if I remember the face of whom first stroked this flame.

I don’t have a face yet.

Just a beautiful body with a mysterious smile that will one day (possibly?) Be real.

Until then I see hints of something that could be and make movies of our ending before the beginning credits have begun.

That’s the thing about me and love and lust. You give me one whiff of something beautiful and I’ll be the violin you pluck until we both crescendo into the next morning.

And what a morning that will be.