The night above The Pocket Watch

I have slipped under your covers and felt your arms. I have held your breath in my mouth, smiling curling my lips in the red color that is stained with the sin of our passion. Your heat held me in your bed and put me in a state of relaxation.

When you put your weight on me, my voice shattered your glass windows and blew out the sheets working as curtains. I felt you in my body and my mind through the way of your movements. You freed me to scream for one night. No neighbor, roommate, or mother to overhear. The only breaths important were our own; seeping into the night together.

The crisp pop of your What?! In the world after an astounding message of renaissance and dependance dances in front of your eyes; your spirit over-joying while your blood boils you down. There is nothing but that clear divisive break in the silence of watching that captures my heart more. Your voice broken over your lips and your eyes, tired and sore.

Practically lips to brick, trying to forget your heartbeat and your rhythm, I lay my head against the red course stone to scrub my mind clear and cold; you can’t hurt what you can't feel. I wish you could scrub a tablet clean with the willpower of a passion unrequited but alas you cannot. There is nothing we could do to unravel our intertwined strings of fate. Yet mine stay forever frayed as the moment passed me by faster than a whisper in the wind.