• In the surreal hours of the night,
    The aria superseded my heartbeat,
    Though my blood was out of time.

    I was existing in the ether,
    Filling every crevice, corner, and cranny.
    You breathed me in and out.
    I peregrinated through your body; I saw your insides.
    I know ablout your aberrations that you covered with silky ostentatious fabrics.
    I assessed the way you elapsed.
    The texture, in favor of mellifluous honey.

    I was the brass word that formed in your throat;
    I mingled with the stale breaths and vibrated along with the oxygen particles;
    I carried the sound to a receptive ear.
    Listening through your shoulder, I could feel you breathing.
    In and out.

    The sunlight streamed through me and through closed eyelids.
    The world was less yellow now.
    You told me about another country and how to steer through the waves.
    I explained why the water bird held out its wings,
    But there isn't much you don't already know.
    Somehow, I still feel I've lived more than you.
    For now, I'd rather just watch you in silence, and listen as you beathe in and out.
    The silence always forbids it.

    I was the force behind a laugh in the shining darkness.
    I was the intake for the concept before it was spoken.

    I was luculent.

    They were perfunctory;
    The strong accent on my wall,
    The side you sleep on at night.

    I was smoothed between the pages of a little-read novel to increase my longevity.
    The unremitting letters embedded themselves into my skin,
    Spinning tales of the deceased and the specters.
    We grew into ne another and into the lackadaisical dust.
    My hands, limpid and fragile, almost fell apart when you held me up.
    But I bent under my own gravity, instead.
    Framed for when I'm needed, I now serve as a memory of what was.

    Sometimes you talk to me like a madman,
    But I couldn't arbitrate you from the way you breathe against and impervious door,
    Or shy away from imperceptible windows.

    I tried to protuberate myself onto your face in the form of a slender graffiti as a final plea,
    A message.
    But they regarded it as vulgar; they deplored it and cleared it away,
    So that others wouldn't have to look upon it.
    Not the arc of the lines, nor the sprays of color over your cheekbones.

    I wanted to reach out and trace the gentle curves made by your architecture,
    But too many things are desultory.
    I am apprehensive of what would happen if I did.
    Would my fingers slip on a smooth surface and find themselves against an unyielding door?

    In solitude,
    We have nothing to fear
    But loneliness.

    Still, when I grasp your warm hand, it feels anything but slippery.
    You hang on tight and say you'll never let me go.
    I glance up and smile,
    Tears streaming from my eyes.
    I trust you, and you pull me up,
    Away from danger.

    Your arms tightly wrap me in an embrace,
    And you whisper sweet words of comfort into my ear.
    The dripping saccharine poison of your voice makes me feel euphoric.
    You, look into my eyes and wipe the tears from my cheeks.
    You kiss my lips tenderly, and we stand there for the longest time,
    As if nothing else mattered.
    You take my hand and lead me to your special place.
    I feel free for the first time in my life.