Alone in the shallows of moonlight,
when obsidian skin melts away.
Eyes no longer stare at the hands,
shades of mahogany find their way.
Secrets behind doors that creak,
forbidden parallels unmake the trick.
Each night ignites a different spark,
knowing when to wait or embark.
Traces of argent veins entwine a link,
pupils no longer move or try to blink.
Tender to hold, yet fiercely bold,
speaking in silence—mostly untold.
Each motion swift like tempered glass,
too late to replay, too lewd to pass.
Moments recoil, then twist and yearn,
colder than ice, yet built to burn.