Within the hour our bodies will slow to nothing but the gentle beating of snow muffled drums. You will take your arm out from under me and I will turn with it, for you are keeping the warmth for yourself. Our skin is rapidly cooling in the night breeze from the open window, the gossamer drapes billowing like ghosts. Goosebumps rise on my arms like marching ants and I want the blankets around me in a cocoon of body heat but I donβt ever want to move, ever, ever; I want only to spoon up behind you like a warm animal, skin like salt water taffy under the moon in the window, framed painting of two lovers. With my ear against your back I can listen to your heart beat, shaking me apart like a tribal dance, bells on my dress keeping perfect time, and I kiss your freckled shoulders like a star map as a night owl coos in the branches by the window. It puts us to sleep like drifting astronauts. Gone are the kisses you give like building empires in my mouth, conquering and renaming; now is the time for slow pecks and flutters of eyelashes, dark smudges against the cheeks. Now is the time for sweet touches of fingertips against gentle skin. Now is the time for a quiet rejoice.