Hover in the thin slip of words unspoken
Fingers to succulent lips, rich like summer peach, one bite and
the sweet will flow
Hover in the celestial body nearly touched
Hands wandering the radiated heat above the milky silk flesh
Soft touch feels the vibration, summer breeze through streams of
sunlight
Waves of want sway free of thought like linen on the line in the
pull of approaching storm
Inhale exhale, the rhythm fused in that hover is the tome scrolled
on every living, dying, regenerating cell
There’s more purpose to breathing than supporting seasonal flow,
earthly rights
Breathing isn’t for proof of existence, it’s to feel you run
through my soul
E.A. O'Connell
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