Smoke and Mirrors

A sharp tongue hot with passion,

Seers my skin.

As small flickers of light bounce from wall to wall,

Making slight gleams seem desirable

Convincingly more than the untravelled dark.

Quick beautiful movements

Dance between us filling the heavy air.

The comforting warmth unknowingly scarring.

As time moves on, energy fades

Leaving a lucid perception that reeks only of destruction.

My youth ended with the cruel reality,

That sometimes, its only the smoke that lingers.