You're only a glimmer,
a touch of
the skin, a slight of
the hand.
Your eyes are only mirrors, and your hands
a woodland breeze,
a dream I've tried
to remember.
Your breath is the
smoke in my lungs,
a fire burning beneath the
surface of
my groin,
the sweet grainy earth from your
lips to mine.
But if I reach out to
your cheek, you'll
turn to sand between
my fingers, blowing
away with the
breath of a
broken kiss.
Yet I will still
hear you,
I will still feel you
against my breast.
But still,
you are only a
dream,
transparent as the
moon and as
distant as
the stars.