You could have planted daisies in my skin, the way your fingers watered the veined roots along my shoulders. Your lips tasted of lilacs, and your breath hummed restlessly like the thunder outside. The rain trickled against your car's metal frame; parking lot lights protruding in like the morning cathedral window panes. When the storm had yet to cease, you halted my eager palms, and began pointing to my skin. Conjuring up words of praise, the shadows of the rain smiled as you told them they reminded you of a cinema.

There was a bible in the trunk, but we laid ****** and unholy. Like Adam and Eve, but an apple untouched and fingers intertwined. A life without god isn't so bad when you've found heaven on Earth.

You kept me dizzy, my breath finding difficulty to circulate after you frequently grasped it away. I want you to steal me forever.

Our tender hearts wanted to misbehave just a little while longer - but I've been taught that all sacred moments must come to a close. But what they refrain to mention, is that sacred moments immortalize themselves in your brain... and baby, you're never leaving the driver seat in the ride of my mind.