The Moves

I didn't mean to put the moves on you, but that kiss felt perfect. 
I felt the cold air part as you leaned in, the slight curve in the back of your neck.
I swear this isn't game. That half second when you pulled back to breathe my atmosphere, that was perfection. You pulled me close as the snow fell, my lips explored your neck.... a seafarer sighting land. Ambrosia to a starving man. Id claim it if I could, but this land is not mine to claim.
"I know", you repeatedly whisper as I bask in your warmth, finding myself between warm skin and frozen goretex. What is real and what is synthetic...
"I know" you nibble on my ear as I gently lift you, feeling you expand in my hands.
I don't respond because I know as well.
I know this won't last, perfection isn't forever, it's a moment. There to be enjoyed until it's gone. A faint memory of fullness you can't explain.
I swear I'm not running game, I lost the rules. I have incinerated the rules at your altar. I defy the rules and do what I shouldn't.
If I was putting moves on you I'd be an actor in a play. But now I'm taken in by the scene... Lines forgotten along with the rules to this game.

I left you at your door smiling as the wind howled, assuring you I'd see you again. No date, just sometime.
The only distance between us being physical.
The warmth as my chest pounds, a welcome side effect from a brush with perfection.