Sit, and watch the skies be set aflame
A pallet of firy tones feather across the
clouds
Our burning cigar tip is a minor part
Of this apocalyptic evening.
Once the skies turn dark
And light pollution replaces the sunbeams,
Carry me downstairs into the bed
And make me feel the fire I missed.
Make me cry, sigh, moan your name,
And eventually come.
With my thighs still shaking and you
watching me,
Kiss me and say you never felt this fire
with anyone else.
Fall asleep next to me,
And soon after we wake and exchange smiles
Take off the shirt you put on me
And set within me another fire.
And after you depart, leave nothing
Except your shirt on me
That smells of nothing more or less
Than sweat and vanilla cigars.
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