Lovers at the Fogged Window

Leina · Apr 17, 2026

On a thin mattress by the window, two shoulders touch.
Beyond the rain‑streaked glass: white fog,
and the faint silhouette of a bridge dissolving into the night.
Closer to us, two breaths and two heartbeats slowly lean together.

A hand under my chin, my eyes closing,
our lips meet in an unhurried, gentle kiss.
Outside, small glowing orbs — Driprimba — rise through the mist,
dropping their tiny marimba tones, kon, charan,
as if adding just enough sound to keep the night from stopping.

The kiss grows deeper but never rough,
sinking firmly into the side of “I love you.”
On the glass, our profiles blur in reflection,
overlaid with the drifting lights outside,
inside shadow and outside glow sharing the same pane.

This world is mostly rain, and fog, and almost no one left.
But at least tonight, it isn’t “once in a while.”
It’s two lovers at the same window,
quietly kissing while the night‑particles rise.