Lightening blue eyes stoke the fire,
spoke straight to the bodies, if not their hearts
Electric hands stroke a warm, wet mire.

Soft murmurs, sighs of ecstasy inspire
a bite. Rough and animalistic. It burns, it smarts.
Lightening blue eyes stoke the fire.

Nails dig deeper as lusts perspire,
teeth nip, mouths clash. A tongue laps at the sweet parts,
Electric hands stroke a warm, wet mire.

Tongues clash, eyes flash, bodies set afire,
struggle, fight to satisfy and flaunt their arts.
Lightening blue eyes stoke the fire.

Temperatures, trembles, and cries rise higher.
The close, the death, engulfs. Enflames. This is no place for sweethearts.
Electric hands stroke a warm, wet mire.

In the languid aftermath another fire
alights, flickers at the dusty, thawing hearts.
Lightening blue eyes stoke the fire.
Electric hands stroke a warm, wet mire.