I pull the covers of tonight across our skin
A blanket of stars upstaged by your eyes
Every hair follicle awakened with the movement of your lips
Tenderness in gentle dream
The smell of the midsummer nights breeze
The palm of my hand to the warmth of your chest, I press
And leave the shooting-star for another
Who needs the hope of its wish
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 3:14 PM UTC
I pull the covers of tonight across our skin
A blanket of stars upstaged by your eyes
Every hair follicle awakened with the movement of your lips
Tenderness in gentle dream
The smell of the midsummer nights breeze
The palm of my hand to the warmth of your chest, I press
And leave the shooting-star for another
Who needs the hope of its wish
