When you blow out like a dead star

you brush against me accidentally - or not. Does it matter?
skin, aflame with summer-blue heat that eats me up from the inside.
instead of the outside.

now we dance precariously close to each other
with the hellsflames of passion wrapping curiously
gentle tendrils around us both.

drawing us together.
closer...and closer....
the dance changes from waltz to something
slower.
something truer.
the music - breath and heartbeats - all of it speeds up,
faster and faster and faster

until

two suns become a single sphere of spinning, tumbling fire
for just one second.
and when you blow out like a dying star,
that marigold candleflame that staves off the night and the worries and the
dark...
is snuffed out.

This nodeshell filled as a challenge from hamster_bong.