Where is the sunrise and kiss-filled bliss,
The muscular tubes of our bodies pretzeled?
My fingertips buzz, unable to dance little flowers on your spine.
My skin has become a timeless tundra,
As I long to feel warm breath circling on my neck.
My voice wavers, unsteady without your ears to travel through.
My legs ache with the want to walk to you
and the corner of my lips point downwards as if
To apologize to my heart.
