Breath like silk adorns the air,
threading secrets, sweet and rare;
near the hollows of the ear,
stolen songs we long to hear.
Notes are melted into skin,
scribbled softly deep within;
tracing laughter's hidden streams,
stirring pulses into dreams.
Candied heat in broken sighs,
drips between our traded lies;
gilded rumors start to spin,
wrapped in soft, delicious sin.
Curtains tremble with each thread,
stammered truths left half-unread;
mirrored giggles, sly and low,
drift between the ebb and flow.
Fingers clutch the fleeting notes,
burning ships with secret votes;
language wrapped in velvet dusk,
coated thick in tender musk.
Ghostly words like vines entwine,
spilling over glass and wine;
warm confessions float and gleam,
honeyed through the scented steam.
Between beats of hidden tunes,
flirt the shaded afternoons;
feathered pacts in hurried flight,
curl into the arms of night.
Fragrant are the tales we weave,
neither pure nor meant to grieve;
yet the fire flickers bright,
fed by murmurs kissed in light.
Hollow caverns bend and sway,
as our breaths begin to stray;
turning songs to broken gasps,
tied by silk of eager clasps.
Hushed offenses find their throne,
balanced on a whispered tone;
trembling vows, forbidden games,
etched in long-forgotten names.
Tangled roots of fervent sound,
where our hidden truths are found;
golden syllables collide,
drifting where our fates reside.
Each confession, fierce and small,
rises, waiting for its fall;
stirring roses made of dusk,
warmed by touch and heavy musk.
In the garden of our breath,
secrets twine in fragrant death;
petals spill from lip to skin,
blooming as the dark creeps in.
Silent laughter strokes the dark,
etching silver 'round each spark;
through the hush we build a sea,
where our guilty hands sail free.
Thus we trade, thus we ignite,
thus we carve our stolen night;
songs no wider world shall know,
songs we only breathe and sow.