There are rare moments in life
    that are so exquisite,
    so perfect,

    that they seem to exist outside of time.

A steakhouse bar-top,
    dim light flickering,
    as conversation melted
    into something softer,

    something unspoken but understood.

The world blurred around us
    and only we remained,
    savoring each word,
    each glance,

    each touch waiting beneath the surface.

Then the night unfolded
    like silk,
    like fire—
        a seamless transition
        from warmth to heat,

        from laughter to longing.

Back at the hotel,
    bodies tangled in whispers,
    fingers tracing the language
        of desire,
        of discovery,

        until exhaustion laid claim to us…
        wrapped in the hush of satisfaction.

But the night wasn’t done.

4 a.m.,
     the quiet hum of wakefulness,
     and before reason could settle,
     passion found us again…
                            reaching,
                            pulling,
                            unraveling—

     one last dance in the dark.

Before the sun could rise,
    did she slip away,
    back to Coal,

    back to the rhythm of another day.

But the night—
    this exquisite night—
                         remains.

Burning slow,
    a memory steeped in
    hunger and tenderness,
    animal and angel,

    in everything that lingers long after.