She gets up and walks towards the window. She grabs her scarf from the chair and drapes it around herself. The way the morning light reflects off of her naked body is poetic. I follow her to the window, and I stand behind her. You can see the frost on the window. I feel the goosebumps under my hands as I trace the curve of her back. I take her scarf and let it fall to the floor, shedding her timidness. I kiss the back of her neck. She pulls her hair over her right shoulder, exposing the left one. I start writing on her. The way her shoulder blades are curved add to the rhetoric. I cover her entire back with segments of my imagination. She has become an illustration of my muse. As the ink dries, I press my body against hers. I can feel a mixture of warmth and cold filtering from the window through her body. I rest my chin atop her left shoulder. She takes my arms and wraps them around her waist. I can feel this biting desire inside of her. “Don’t stop dreaming when you wake up,” she says to me.