“Kissed by fire,” he murmured to himself,
Catching glimpses from afar,
A whirlwind carrying him from island to island,
With only choices glimpses of pointed ears,
And pointed poise.

“Kissed by fire,” he thought to himself,
Watching her fiery attitude at work,
Slander and scandal sliding off her steely hide,
Her armor of contempt,
Sun touched hair heralding a coming storm.

“Kissed by fire,” he claimed to himself,
Standing across from the woman of brimstone,
Two pairs of eyes aflame by his action,
Conflicting thoughts tumbling and rumbling,
His sudden steps bringing him closer to her.

“Kissed by fire,” he gasped to himself,
Cursing the need to breathe air,
Keen-edged nails digging into his back,
His own into hers as auburn hair fills his view,
Her taste spiced and exotic.

“Kissed by fire,” he said to himself,
His voice startling her out of their calm,
Her eyes questioning as he explains himself,
Running a hand through her sun touched hair,
Gleaming and calling to him.

“Kissed by fire,” he growled to himself,
Watching her tender hands caress another’s cheeks,
Her divine form in another’s grasp,
While his own teeth bared in an angered scowl,
Her eyes flicking towards him for a simple second.

“Kissed by fire,” he whispered to himself,
Doubt and fear washed away by her silken voice,
Her fur-soft hand slipping into his,
Her lips stressing what he tells himself,
Her feverish words lulling him to a false sleep.

“Kissed by fire,” he laughed to himself,
Witnessing her bitter departure,
Her back turned to him with book-end finality,
Listening to the tombstone echoes of her footsteps
A rare tear hastily extinguished.

“Kissed by fire,” he declared to himself,
Blindsided by her unsurprising return,
Listening to her heady words and apologetic tone,
A familiar dance, already performed,
Yet already accepted as his hand took hers.

“Kissed by fire,” he whispered to himself,
His quiet confessions spoken near her ear,
Her lithe form poised even when deep in slumber.
Two huddled forms lying under the radiant moon,
Her own startlingly awake and startlingly aware.

“Kissed by fire,” she called him,
Her pale arms coming ‘round his surprised form,
Her hands gently seizing his,
Fingers and gazes interlocking,
A three word dance being proposed.

‘Twas the chink in his rusted armor,
Heralded long ago yet still unexpected,
A chevalier-mal-fet unhorsed,
A dented helm removed,
A pockmarked wall brought down,
Grime and dust and blood wiped away,
All revealing hopeful eyes,
An errant smile,
A hopeful heart.
“Kissed by fire,” he called himself.