An Affair.

It was cold outside,
But in the cusp of your hand there is a flame,
Withering and dying-
But it is still alive.

What is it that attracts two people together?
There is nothing to be had in physical appearances
Yet a beautiful soul cannot satisfy the undying lust of young hands

We walk and converse,
Civilised yet chastised by morals of society,
We are not here-
Silent as the moon.

Morality is cast aside when the heart decides,
"I want, I need, I cannot live without".
It does not consider the after effects
The insignificant tremors that rock the night.

We were alive,
Two moths fluttering tirelessly beneath lamplight
A dance of courtship-
Bound by instinct.