Untitled I

I would like to whisper to you how you take my breath and fuel my pulse with something more elemental than O2 that flushes my cheeks and tingles my toes and sends my head swimming around and around and around in an amaranthine-ethereal-nonlingual slow-mo samba like cheeks brushing and words touching me where I've never even touched myself and I wear them like garments because at your hands I feel beautiful and at your thought I could flush aching winter with one thousand summers laid end to end like the sun wouldn't set unless we wanted and the stars are things that we can toss into one another's hair like smiles that we bounce from lip to lip and maybe if I hiss my whisper sweetly enough I can tickle your ear and ring your laugh.