Your eyes flash with tin-metal heat
radiating from your naked
shoulders in simmering waves;
a palpable presence, third-party
to our locked-door liaison.
I want to sear my skin
against yours, but keep
a calculated, cunning
distance, bringing myself
to the same boil, smilingly
watching your steam
whistling from every pore.
Understand
that although this is
supposed to be
"just ***"...
we are about
to brand each other.