Delicate Nights − 1 March, 2005

There is the sound of wax popping somewhere in the dark, along with the papery flutter of moth wings as they hover above the candle's flame. Their shadows are cast huge and flickering on the wall behind them. The world outside howls and moans and reaches for us with cold, wet hands, but we are safe, lost in the moment and in each other. The wind will just have to keep howling.

Our bodies merge beneath a heavy blanket. Her lips dance on mine as I thread my fingers through her hair. Fingernails disappear into skin. Hearts pound and breath catches.

I exhale, and she settles her body into mine. I fall asleep feeling her skin and smelling her shampoo.