He was a delicate candle

That needed some light

Strike the matchstick

And he’ll light up with a spark

His sweat dripping like wax

Slowly down his skin

Heated friction,

Quickened; as we shared our first kiss

His cologne was spicy

Like the taste of his tongue

Smoky tobacco

His breath; bitter and warm

The fumes were flavourful

But beneath the grey haze

Fireballs alight

I was a moth to a flame

He smothered my skin

It was reddened and braised

Burning sensation

Like a dry leaf to a blaze

I became singed and scorched

My heart crackling like coals

Silent red siren

He was out of control

Like a flower in a firestorm

I lost sensation to feel

The inferno raged on and

It was all becoming real...