the taste of it whispers, rolls over my tongue and coats my lips…lingers. i can feel it, sliding over my shoulders…slinking down my arms and past my fingers. if i close my eyes, it swallows me up. swallowed whole in shadows and warmth and memory. if i close my eyes, it reverberates through my mind. echoes and echoes and echoes of you. or me. it’s unclear. it’s different and new and exciting and unstable and intoxicating and tangible — and just the same as always. find space… find space… a word or two. a touch. comfortable silence and you breathe in. breathe in breathe in breathe and you and me and nothing and everything in between (space). and then you’re lost in a wasteland. lost, looking…you cannot escape. and you cannot hold on. because it’s slippery, slippery smooth and sleek. shadows and whispers and smoke filtering through the cracks. and you sink in. you’re sinking…sinking in…sinking in you, in me, in nothing and everything in between.
(space)
