Trance

Disarray the already stained sheets of my mind; i promise there is not room for everybody inside.

My mind is too focused on the arctic feel of her blue lips kissing mine. Every movement has its ripple effect, like clothes on its cord in the wind, sending miniature tornado's throughout the vacant spaces of air that compass my bones. Your lips feel as if they can reach the black in my lungs; the depths of what keeps my blood flowing. Rocking my own body back and forth, "it feels like there is whip cream being inserted into my shoulders, running down my arms." Her words perfectly described the icicle feeling under our skin. I inhale water, because i heard that's what you have to do, but the curtains are still breathing across the room and so is the shaking reflection in the window where i can see the sun of the room and three more outlines of its shape. We exchange words and "gentle" eyes for more than a few hours and i wonder if I'm sober...