I cannot cross the boundary erected between us. Constructed by you, fortified by my ego.
Subtle, not seen, until I am almost, just almost…I lift my leg to step over them.
Back. I am slammed, to that space where all we do is stare.
Your body, tensed, cries out for me to touch you, for that would cause the edifice to fall, the towers to be laid open, ruined and starkly bare.
You open your mouth. Smoke seeps out. It folds around my ears but nothing is clear.
Will you be able to speak when I caress the long sinuous throat that contains the words I need to hear, trapped like all the tiny sparrows? I see their wings beating, pulsing, against the fragile skin of your neck.
Before, in the dark, I have traced the path from your heart to your lips. Your breath gently escaped your mouth, causing frost to form on my lashes, in the fine hairs above my lips.
Somehow, it has wound into my chest, for I am still partially frozen, afraid to be in either a solid or liquid state.
I stand, I walk, I crawl. Towards that barely perceptible barrier.
Holding tightly to the image of your throat, the pathway from your lips to heart, in my head.
Open your mouth and cause the world to rotate for another day.
