Flamed Poem by J A Proudfoot

There was fire between them.
It crackled and hissed from her hair,
flashed and flared,
with every subtle fiery glance and folding tress
sending skyward glowing sparks.
Weaving across her white skin,
his fingers left glittering ember trails.
This wasn’t the natural order of things.
People were scared……
and people were envious of their fiery love display.

Their envy fed their flaming passion,
and their flaming passion …… fed them.
His hands held fire when they cupped her breast.
Her lips were cool blue flame on his body.
The heat of their exchange would wake them
as they lay folded against each other,
and groggily sought cooler parts of their bed.
Still enough body contact,
to keep themselves smouldering.
Still enough distance,
to prevent arson.

Playing with this fire was dangerous.
He was dry and seasoned.
She was hostage to his intensity,
and, jailor of her feelings.
She thought him Ariel,
flamed in amazement,
burning her from stem to stern.
But he was Erasmus,
offering his fire as protection,
and his soul as a glow, discharged to her core.