When I touch you now, O sweet lover, full of fire, melting like ice in my embrace . . .
when I part the delicate white lace, baring pale flesh, and your face is so close that I breathe your breath and your hair surrounds me like a wreath . . .
tell me now, O sweet, sweet lover, in good faith . . . are you the thief who has stolen my heart?
Originally published as βBaring Pale Fleshβ by Poetic License/Monumental Moments