Darling, 

let us indulge indulgence,

that Epicurean cure.

Let touch be our salve,

my lips be your balm,

and let us yield 

to what we feel — 

what, my dear, 

could be more real?

Let go of thought — 

be free, my darling,

think not.

Break that dam,

embrace the rains — 

surrender, my love,

surrender, and let your heart 

take the reins.