Butterfly lips are on your neck and shoulder,
Careful not to touch the contour of your face
and smile as you breathe on my hair,
My fingers refuse to entangle beautiful knots,
I had dreamed of us like this, over and again.
When the sun rises, I will pack the suitcase
inundated with Moulin Rouge and Cathedral memories,
Finished last night’s champagne from the bottle,
I look at you for the very last time; a moment of silence,
How I wish to repeat yesterday in an immaculate beat.
But I will be gone before you open your eyes,
I will be gone by the time you are awake.