you the plane, me the firey explosion
my red and orange fingers creeping up your smooth and shiny body.
Both of us blindingly racing back towards Earth.
I can hear something screaming inside of you.
I want to reach in and fix it with my burning hands, but there isnt enough time. So I just hang on, licking my way up your steel frame.
I run my hot hands over your riveted stomach and you explode again, sending us into a tailspin.
We are dancing.
or I am.
i cant see your expression as i havent made it to your head.
but i know you HAVE to be feeling something as we twirl toward the ocean

Interesting... has a very sexual feel to it...
I like the comparisons... and the usage of the planes parts, and pilot?
to really emphasize the connection felt... when flying "love" is out of control.