She lay watching midnight fireflies
with her back upon an ash of airborne embers,
while you walk the nylon threads woven between her fingertips
and climb those sweet illusions.
Her lips, rendered by yours
expose and converse in romantic overtones
leaving you with an ache in your belly only she can ease
Her hands tip-toe the ambit of your empire,
fanning the flames and exciting those little embers
now dancing in the shadows of an orange silhouette.
Like lost lovers, once forgotten,
you succumb again.
Till those sparks chase away the darkness
And die in view of daylight.
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