Glasses of red wine on the table, <br />Purple stains. <br />Candles burning, fire enjoying the air, <br />Colors mask the room, <br />Fantasies mask us, turn our coldness <br />Into the most warm sighs. <br /> <br />The gentle flow of caresses, <br />Lights up the imagination, <br />And scenes, images, <br />Start falling one by one, <br />As we take them prisoners, <br />Intimate atmosphere. <br /> <br />Oh! I should just let you, be you, <br />I shall let me, be me, <br />Simplicity, comfort in daring, <br />I will let the masks… fall!<br /><br />Elya Thorn<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/intimate/
