Atomic beauty

I’ve always thrived in heat;  
and it’s almost  
never too    
hot  
   
But you’re an elemental force  
not a temperature.  
   
You’re something liquid and steel    
that melts your skin to my bones    
and makes me feel like  
I’m in danger    
   
My finger in your mouth,    
our gazes locked,  
you pick me up,  
fingers dimpling  
the flesh of my ass  
as I automatically    
wrap my arms  
around your neck,  
legs around your waist,  
and press against you,    
needing to feel  
my chest blister from    
the you-UV rays    
   
and you drop me on the bed  
as if it were both altar and pyre.  
   
Something primordial crawls  
through my guts  
and I lie back,    
arching and wanton,  
eyes only on you.  
   
You place an ankle on your  
wide  
strong  
shoulder,  
run your face  
down the length of my leg,  
and my fingers reflexively    
clench in the sheets.  
   
I break out in chills  
as your chin scrapes against  
my trembling inner thigh.  
   
My fingers find their boldness  
and run through your hair,  
whisper light,  
a moment of reflection  
perhaps,  
before you hit the ignition switch  
and blow me to shreds    
with the detonation    
of your lust  
   
And I understand heat  
for the first time.  
   
I understand it can be too hot.  
   
I have a bare cognizance  
of it as my toes dig into the bed,  
my hands dig into your scalp  
and I lose language.  
   
On fire.  
Crinkling away to nothing.    
   
Blown to ash by the wind,    
like a blackened    
sheet of paper  
with    
love words    
on it.