You're a dreamer. Lids like lamp lights. Flickering on and off. Lofty ideas lifting lids heavy when you would sometimes rather dream the day away. Cheeks like pillows balanced by a moon crest smile. Whispers of hair woven at the peak of you to keep your thoughts warm. Body waxing and waning, rising and falling, ever expanding like the dreams you are dreaming. Dream Visions vividly painted. Etched in the lines in the palm of your hand. Where your hand meets with mine.

I wish to be like a quiet morning in a shaded room, sleepy eyed; the smell of green and the steady drip and hum of the outside world after a soft spring shower. A cool calm, a sleepy warmth, and the energetic pulse of the day to come, all at once. A place for you to lay your head and dream of dreams that wishfully come to.

With the first bite of the frost you come to me
Quiet and cool as you awake from the warm haze
Shivering
I watch you dance in the shadows
I embrace your light
Watch it drip off of you like fire
I taste you on my tongue
I feel you in my breath
You are vibrant

There was the summer I lost myself in the uniqueness of you.
Then, reunited again with the warmth,  I discovered myself in the uniqueness of me.

He said he likes the way I see the world
How I frame my mind
Flecks of silver in my eyes
Childlike with wise reflection

Count the quiet sequence of the days
And illuminating ways
I light up with the feeling of
The sun holding in its hands my face

When I stretch my limbs
And fall right in
Catch the rain drops on my spine
And taste his skin
Fade into the earth
Connect, find rebirth
Let it fill me from within

Like a bed of flowers,
Each always extending itself further than the other,
I want to be the one that reaches the sun.

Gaze at the turn of events myself lost in translation
A purging of the mind
A long awaited *******
that leaves me breathless
with little sensation
but a warm body
with coldly felt inclinations

Turn over repeat
Thighs apart take the heat
Turn over repeat
Want of lust
Love the sheets

The feeling like the razor sharp noise of a fan blade scraping across the inner surface of your scull. Hallowing out a cavity. Leaving a space for those wintery cold thoughts to ice over inches above the current, solidify themselves, just the same as the concrete numbness in one who feels frozen feet but remains trembling at the spine. A shivering transference of short circuiting energy and no wonder your hands shake so balancing on pins and needles. Wobbly knees. Graceful feathered voice.

life's trivial in the way it ebbs and flows,
moving in between your thighs,
flowing and rapidly thrusting upwards,
forcing you to regurgitate thoughts
which careen momentarily
in your mind
before being expelled from your mouth
after you've gasped for air

it's the carbon dioxide you release
that you allow to dance past your lips,
along your wrists & around fingertips
before its diluted,
sparing the conscience further shame,
robbing a moment of self-reflection.

after all, should you indulge
in the sweetness of life with
eyes too far open,
you will fall ill eventually
& you'll purge in one way or another
the pollution that was once masked
as pure mint-like oxygen

or a sweet serpentine tongue
trying to wrap it's way around the crevices
of your body, tempting you,
only to constrict moments later
and swallow you whole.
This is why i count as I exhale.

In my head I was thinking about poetry,
A way to mask the ***** things I'd done with
Beautiful words,
To lessen the blow on my ego.