My lungs become
weightless
as smoke
under your finger tips.
Our flesh is all
ash and temphra,
shielding our
landscape...our Pompeii from them.
You kiss me.
I overflow.
Your eyes become lava
that I can touch
and hold
and love.
I catalogue each thought you share,
and traverse your library on nights
when ice-
icles reign down between us.
Your lips breathe Phoenixes
only those that believe in magic
can see.
