3 floors up
A bevy
Of opportunity was seen

Waiting to be conquered

And in the span of a lull
As the whisper
Of chance
Whispered playfully
In her ear

She wept

Besides,

What is
A friendly caress
At the departure

And strawberry lips
Refusing to reveal
The ultimate mystery

Compared to
The faint smell of cornstarch
Lingering on crumpled sheets?