A Poem: Playing With Fire - 2/10/10

I'm a passionate man with a passionate plan...
I wanna burn you with the passion at hand
It'll be like fire and brimstone once I put these lips on,
You.
Every time I touch you it's like an earthquake
Yet instead of tremors, waves of fire spread through you
This incalescent heat creates beads of sweat...
They provide no relief though
The further they slide, the further you hide
Hide from what's burning, yearning inside you.
More and more these searing pustules appear...
Bursting with the passion that's leaking out of you in more ways than one
Labored breathing is a sign that this favored meeting is bringing out your now tapered needing
Tapering towards a meeting of piping P's...
One slang and one official.
Ruby red rays of arousement now give way to scarlet sights
Tinged by the lust, darkness has befallen this starlit night
Your inhibitions are melting away
Following the suit of your clothing
The heat of passion is the Ace of Spades...
You don't want to follow suit but you're folding
I hold you tightly, and you feel as though Satan himself has you his grasp
Between the inferno and sins, your will bends, and you fail to hold a gasp...
The air is thick with dreams and desires
Smoke from our infernal internal fires
And you can't help but choke...
As though you've taken a hit of coke,
The smoke goes through respiration and hits your veins
Your resistance is eroded and your bad side is goaded
The gun has been loaded with no way for you to control it...
And as the last of your undergarments hit the floor...
BANG, you aren't that sweet neighborly girl anymore.
The insidious flames now play fastidious games
You are enraptured by your own libido
With the gunsmoke smothering your judgment, here we go...
Into my arms you lunge, lips scorching at mine
Hands became torches, lighting the way to what we wanted to find
Only the volcano awaited, our destination for the night
As we laid in it, we couldn't help but delight in our fiery plight
Every fire needs oxygen, and breathing was a cacophony of lust
The only thing in vision was the lascivious mission, our minds clouded by sulfuric dust
Constantly trying to please, we shifted like tectonic plates
Knowing full well that conflagrations were taking shape
There was an unbearable buildup, as sizzling love filled up
Body and mouth were as one, erupting simultaneously
And the fire soon died...but not without crackling heinously.
Your innocence lay listless in the ashes
A victim of us playing with fire...knowing our bodies are matches.

-A. Lewis