The moon is beautiful

The Breeders: Cannonball

The moon is beautiful.

The pause.  The lean.  The laugh.

"The moon is beautiful, you know."  It caught him by surprise, but the moon embodied her.  The shine in her hair,  The glow poured from her skin.  She moved, hips pressing from side to side.  Her press close.  Before in a moment it moved away.  The energy surrounding both pulled as sparks shot across the atmosphere static.  Laden and longing for the touch.  The burning caress.  But in the dance the passions could play.

Bodies surrounded in the crowd but focused only on the other.  Passion burned.  Desire fumed.  The inferno grew high as bodies grew close.  The touch.  The trace.  Lids weighed heavy.  Drawn by points of a hidden undertow.  Bodies grew close, separated only by the smallest of distances.  In that unbearable sliver, sparks leapt from his skin.  His gravity would pull her to him.  With each moment it only became stronger.  

Her laugh in a moment broke above the music.  The moment of clarity amidst the chaos.  Her hair drifted across face.  The cover.  The reveal.  The passion play as she moved.  Her press ever closer as they began the ballet towards the shadows.  A solace from the madness, so that in the asylum, the momentary lapses of reason could be born.

The grace.  The sanctum.  Was reached.  His lips burned upon contact.  She pressed.  She had to feel.  She had to be felt.  She had to consume and be consumed.  Each press, each move, only fanned the flames higher.