Burning,
yet cold to the touch,
we stood out in the street with the snow.

Flakes that danced on the wind,
steadily dampening our clothes and hair,
shook away our troubles with the flutter of a breeze.

You in your fluffy hat and scuffed shoes, me wrapped in your jumper and my too-tight jeans. Both of us content to be cold before we got hot.

Because we both knew the fire would come later, burning kisses and blistering contact could wait.

Right then, we just enjoyed the snow, before the fire could melt it away.