Like the way it hits

All this drawn in my head
By those snow-white rumpled sheets...
All your touches, hot and soft...
Taste of cigars on my lips...

Not in love, it's funny, yeah?
Wierd to made myself stay cold...
Only hope this taste will fade...
Now my wish is to be bold.

Now my wish is your pretence,
Glowing eyes from love and lust...
Let the cigars' taste entwine
With the pleasure, growing fast...

Silly, yeah? I hoped for it...
Hoped you dare to wake my soul.
Nonsense! Please... Try to forget...
I am saint no more, no poult.

All this drawn in my head
By this taste on swollen lips...
Not in love with you, not yet...
But I love the way it hits.

P.S. Прошу сохранять мое автороство) Спасибо!)