Between verses and caresses

 
When in the night
you become passion and poetry,
the stars dance
to the rhythm of your sighs,

Desires sprout
like flowers in the wind,
perfumes of longing
that caress the skin,

In the deep silence
our souls meet,
when in the night
we are fire that breathes,

Between verses and caresses,
our souls are them,
where passion and poetry
are only a clamour.