Ebony tresses falling on a slender frame, and blessed with almond skin. Stretched, abstractly across the bed with bright eyes shining among the sheets. Smoke still billowing from the ashes, and curling up to the ceiling after crawling across red, painted fingernails. Past regrets are concealed by desire. The remedy to a short affair, without the awkward acceptance of guilt. There is something to be said for love without the restraints of devotion or romance.