Candid q(uiet).

The room is coated in goss(iping li)ps,

but between you an(d I is w)armth,

an (indescr)ibable thread from the

red scarf wr(apping u)s in fervor.

Nervous eyes grow c(old from (lack

of co)ntact), and hy(pothermia is

bound to set in unless th)ey meet again.

The r(isk is) worth any co(nsequence;

comf)ort is life's nourishment, and

YOu are the only comfort f(or me).

HEAT Rises as We f(all for each

O)THer; the CurVE of your LiPs invites

me to st(ay lo)NGer, and that's

ho(w I know I'll never l)eave.