It was life once,
Hissing in its transformation
Through a writhing, twisting dance,
Once pure,
And giving, giving, and giving.
Now it floats,
A sort of mist over your legs
That beat the ground like my heartbeat
Let me be your mist
For as long as I can form the ring in your sky;
Caught up with white skin and sunsets;
When was this ever not literal?