On the last night we made love as though it were the last night. When we touch, it is flint to fire. Sparks with promise of flame.
The monsoons will be on time this year. A whole month early, it has begun to rain between our bodies. A storm breaks into me and lights up my eyes like a meteor shower.
Dry days surrender to dream-drenched nights soaked in sweat, damp with desire. I am a receptacle of our love. A harvester of these passions. The deluge remains within.
And how perfectly it all comes together, how complete it all feels. In the midst of one sultry, humid night in a city where even the air petrifies, I found room to fall in love again.
Photo courtesy: http://www.flickr.com/photos/steffiocarro/304910330/