The Poem We Have Become

Moonbeams danced in the night, lighting the darkest shadows of our hearts. Her words, sweet as the juice of a tree ripened orange, were etched into my mind.

I craved her lips pressed firmly against mine, burning like the wax of a hundred candles. Our fingertips touch and meld, a coalescence of two separate beings.

I stripped her trappings to reveal the stark contrast of her sun kissed curves. Brushing lightly, I heighten her senses, the soft blush seeps to her skin's surface.

My fingers glisten as I polish her glittering gemstone, our dance running it's course, the course of fire. Two becoming one, without start, without stop, without transition, just being.

I awoke with her kiss still floating upon my lips, soft and gentile as I reminisced. I made her, she made me, the words branded in our hearts, tattooed in our souls, the poem we have become