Haven

An eastern glow throbs up and down
the four walls of this little haven.
Two empty bottles hold candles in place,
lending tender light across the rug,
the cushions, the desk,
your bed.
Our clothes lie spilled across the room
in haphazard puddles leading to us,
tangled up in each other,
while the scent of hot cinnamon writhes in the air,
melting into our skin and mingling with
our sweet sweat.
With hands and lips trembling
we trace outlines tentatively, brushing skin
and shivering with delight.
Being with you on these balmy nights
feels like we were never apart.
I've come home to us.