Your hands are on my body,
And your breath is on my neck;
Should some watch us now,
They might have a heart attack.
The passion’s in the air,
It’s burning our skin —
Our limbs tangle, but the touch
Only worsens the ache underneath the skin.
You whisper my name,
I don’t dare to speak yours;
What we have is far from my fairytale fantasy
It’s rather lusting in the rawest form,
But I can manage with that
As long as you bury me into oblivion.
In my heart, there’s only the desert.
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