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Bathed in saffron light;
A sea of curves,
A forest of limbs,
A breeze of whispers,
In the midnight hour.

Traveling fingers pause;
On rivers of lines,
On valleys of arching,
On silken webs of hair,
In the hour when others sleep.

Yet this tempting flesh,
So tangible and yielding to touch,
Does not make it anymore real.
It is a beautiful piece of fiction–
Blazing passion in the dullness of life.

Tell a million lies among the heat.
I want to hear them all.
This is what infatuation, desire is all about.
To one day believe the lies, as consolation–
To believe we are happy.

You want me for now.
Perhaps that is enough.