Elya Thorn - Intimate

Glasses of red wine on the table,
Purple stains.
Candles burning, fire enjoying the air,
Colors mask the room,
Fantasies mask us, turn our coldness
Into the most warm sighs.

The gentle flow of caresses,
Lights up the imagination,
And scenes, images,
Start falling one by one,
As we take them prisoners,
Intimate atmosphere.

Oh! I should just let you, be you,
I shall let me, be me,
Simplicity, comfort in daring,
I will let the masks… fall!

Elya Thorn

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/intimate/