Firestorm Souls

I still hadn’t been able to put onto to paper how his eyes danced to the city lights. Oh, did I mention how his skin is drenched in honey? No, it is silk. Silk impregnated with my favourite scent. With his hand on my shoulder and his breath filling mine, I surrender to the surreal demise of my senses.

His hurricane eyes take mine on a whirl. My body resonates with the shudders his touch causes. In his presence, I find heaven that I gave up on years ago.

And did I mention the wind? The song that sounds vibrantly in the silence of the night, each time he laughs. I see him in colours that don’t exist. The colours I wish they existed.

And each time I put forth the fact that I he deserved much better than me he lifts my chin, looks me dead in the eye and says, “You are so special, my darling, that for you to exist, the entire universe had to be built.”

He crosses my mind and I freeze, certain that the time we’re spending is just a mere figment of my imagination. That is when his presence jerks me out of these thoughts and I burn.

Unknowingly, he looks at my scarred hands and asks, “Why are they burnt?”

And I reply, “Because I’ve been touching people with firestorm souls.”



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