Softly, our fingertips meet, as eager as the lovers with no promise of tomorrow.
Timidly, my hands tremble along your face, my thumbs carving you into their memory.
You belong to me,
and I belong to you.
Every trouble melts away, because your lips belong to me, and mine belong to you.
You,
are an orchid, and your petals dance upon my mouth.
Let us bloom without a why, for tomorrow belongs to neither you, nor I.
A shadow of wine paints the corner of your mouth. Oh! How I long to breathe you in.
Softly you smile, and your tongue surrenders to mine.
Are you real, or a dream?
Our lips part…
I am no dreamer,
you are no dream.
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