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.