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...