butterfly tattoos in an ocean of fabric softener

These stained, paper thin walls could barely contain our sins as the minutes came and left silently.
"Go faster." you demanded. “The sun will be coming up soon." Those were the first words you had spoken in seven long hours.
The lack of light, and sleep deprivation had hindered our performance. We became careless as the moon descended behind the brick buildings which seemed unfamiliar in the darkness.
There was no time to contemplate the outcome of this night; it was far too late anyways.
As the robins began to serenade us we began to pack our things. The perfect soundtrack to a mission accomplished.
You sparked a celebratory cigarette and tossed the match to the floor, landing in a void of consistency in the aged hardwood floor. I imagined the chair that would have created such a void, and the wealthy aristocrat that would have rested his feet there. My mind began to wander, possibly due to the lack of sleep, or possibly due to the overwhelming feeling of success, but it wandered none the less.
Just as I was playing out a scenario of the room's past, you grab my arm and lead me through the door frame. A horseshoe sat tilted, resting atop of the doorframe, letting all of its luck out. I chuckle to myself as you lead me up a narrow stair case using your hands as eyes.
We opened a heavy metal door, as the fresh morning air rushed into our lungs and the early morning sun washed over our exhausted bodies. We sat perched upon the rooftop over looking a city still sleeping, except for the odd fisherman, or exercise enthusiast.
The business men would soon be attending their desks, as we were heading to hide between poly-cotton sheets.
We wouldn't wake for days; we had everything we needed in the leather briefcase resting at the foot of our bed.