The flameglow kisses her curves 
with every unstable flicker,
skin even warmer before needy lips
meet the inviting craned dip of her neck.

It would hurt too much to believe this
bliss can only be breathed in by the young.

We'll still move in tandem towards firelight,
both aglow and carefully shadowed
in the most ancient warmth dancing,
it has and always will be.

Her mouth melts against mine the same,
the perfect flow of sweetness and sin,
something has always kindled between us
behind the seemingly endless
automata of all else that we know. 

We seek something beyond escape
because our skins are only phantoms,
a fathom knowing no age or chain
once we have touched the soul.

Her slickened lips yield as if 
to impart her every secret,
an aching root within reach longing
to finally confess all of my own
when she gently traces the lifeline
beating through a single vein before
being pinned as the most willing prey.

Heated velvet clasps around me,
it would hurt too much to believe
this is just a body and another body
raging against what makes us so lonely.

She would still melt around me the same,
something still tethering us to a place
beyond the colorless automata 
of everything else we surrender to
where a part of the heart has
hardened to all but her touch.

We'll move in tandem through
our own phantoms to a brilliance
untouched by the careful firelight,
a heat jealously kept to ourselves,
a fathom youth cannot touch yet.

Because I am inside her pulse,
I can feel all she is,
all that she was and will be.

We have touched the soul.