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.