Touch like fire

You have the spot
The spot on your hand- tells more than it looks.
Oh, your hands, so slenderly strong.
Mine, so slenderly weak.
Together we have strength.
Together we have something neither can explain,
and neither can complain.
It is...
touch like fire.
Something ignites under us,
and we begin to smolder.
Not a bright burning flame...
a white hot one.
Like lava, we flow.
We flow.
We flow.
It just... works so nicely.
Our lava fills the cracks in both of our hearts.
And... we let it cool.
And it hardens.
Strengthens.
And, with our touch like fire...
We can ignite it once again.
And slowly flow together, as this strange not togetherness.
What are we, exactly?
We were together then and there
but now we are not but are.
And, we continue to flow.
Effortlessly.
Completely effortless, this is.
And it's so comfy.
I feel so comfy in your arms.
Wrap them around me, my lava baby. :)
Lava baby.
Your hands are the molten rock around me.
Wrap around me, lava baby.
Fill in the cracks the others left.
You have that strange power.
And... I love it.
Fill me in, lava baby.
Your touch is like fire.
Our touch is like fire.
Our hands mold together quite lovely.
They do, you must admit so.