Butterflies in stomach,
Behind a thick brick wall,
Traces of euphoria,
That usually ends in remorse.

That exotic lark in an unknown universe,
In a space hidden from the real world,
On a surface as soft as a feather,
Still, time flies like a bird.

Conscious to the staring light bulb,
Tears dry easily as it comes,
The ecstatic air spiraled through the sheets,
The grooves are just plain addictive.

On and on until it take light years,
Reveling on pretentious caress,
Memories are meant to be burned,
Mask on my face, I needed to wear.

I pray to a god to forgive my sins,
But I keep doing them anyway,
As I chase the danger naturally,
The yearning for my lover never leaves.