Rain falls like drops of perfume,
filling the air with the scent of lace
and night. It sticks to skin
like humid hugs and kisses.
Refuge is found in satin sheets
and hushed giggles that flood our hearts
until they are no longer hearts
but ponds of cliches and cheap perfume.
Protection rests under shields of sheets
and a quiet of delicate lace,
broken only by the rain’s rough kisses
on our roof and soft murmurs into skin.
The center of the world is our skin.
We are the slow beating heart
that fills this life with breathless kisses
and pumps bland love full of perfume
and satin and soft lace,
all through veins of satin sheets.
Our thoughts have been threaded into these sheets,
woven with the dreams we breathe on each other’s skin,
edged with the beaded blue lace
we hope will one day clothe our hearts.
Lit by candles of white perfume,
they are more beautiful than impulsive kisses.
Life exists only within kisses.
Moments of importance only those in sheets
and memories triggered by the smell of perfume.
Emotions crash on the shores of our skin
while dreams interpret our hearts
and play us nights of loving lace.
We live tied together by lace,
enwrapped in our whispers and kisses,
pinned down by our hearts,
tangled up in thin sheets.
We do not have separated skin,
our life defined by perfume.
Our skin holds the perfume of each other,
our clothes only lace and sheets and the love
within our hearts, echoed by the rain’s cold kisses.