Peeled back, the black lace on your thighs,
Pink silk sheets and Born To Die echoing off mist-kissed windows.
Fistfuls of soft onyx strands twist in my grip,
Cognac-laced lips speak sweet meaningful nothings.
Hopeful breaths mixed with astonishment,
Moist words sneak through clenched teeth.
Opaque whispers crawl along the bassline,
Reverberating, getting stronger in the silence.
Flickers of tangerine candlelight tiptoe across your shoulders.
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