Mystique.

I flicker like fluorescent lights

when you feel more right 

than rainy november nights
A few unforgettable sighs 
and I caught on fire—

like frost made hot on an open flame

I admire your intrigue, 
float higher; unfatigued. 
I aspire, you succeed. 
Make me feel weak,

between the knees 
fom your mystique, 

that soothes me, 
it's so unique. 

This technique unseen before by me, 
sets me on fire, like a gas leak. 
It douses me with desire, like I am antique, 
and sends me reeling as I retreat
into a rhythmic release immortalized 
by an elite orchestra of my own adoration, obscene. 

I perceive you as the precipice, 

the karmic retribulated catalyst 

of my lifetime's greatest hits. 
I'd wreak havoc on the most chaotic 
if it would win me a single kiss 
from those lips, that leave my soul wet. 

Perspiring, patting prudishly at the dew 
that drowns me in the essence of you, 
as beads of citrus, and luna rossa 

carbon-scented fragrant sweat pepper my neck
but just as I'm about to man the decks, I stop and catch sight of my reflection, flushed and made more red than scarlet letters. 

So I slyly smile; 
then let out a luxuriating breath. 
I dont know how you do it 
but suddenly, I'm 16 again, 
I feel so fresh.
Like I've got brand new insides, 
it's cleansed my chest. 

Whatever it is, I know 
that you and me could rise above the rest, become better than our best, 
conquer the globe from east to west, 
but only if you promise to never 

let us go to bed upset.