Gentle lips press against mine
And I am lost in his touch.
His arms rest around my waist,
Which had disappeared under his coat;
Of which I had stolen when
The weather turned against us.
The warmth that resonates
Between our bodies --
Through soft t-shirts and
The rough texture of denim --
Steams in the cold rain.
Moments lost in time
And the stillness
Becomes sanctuary to the two lovers,
Who stand alone
On the darkened pavement
Of a city that the map forgot.
© Copyright 2016 sirenscalling. All rights reserved.
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