All those treasures buried,
somewhere in our skin
Ticking clocks at night, vaguely rush the hours, the minutes.
Passion hidden in our lips, red of ecstasy.
Wishing for time, wishing for space, wishing for privacy,
we find ourselves alone in cautelous, crafy silence.
That noisy leather couch, now its ours..
Its a whole secret, a whole world.
We are young, and in love.