Like the smokey breath that falls from your lips, I find myself shifting, swirling at your word a spoken.
As I may drift about without any sight to guide; I feel bent, a bit twisted but quite far from broken.
I wish for more and beg for the end, caught in a dismay- trouble a brew within my guilt ridden mind.
I find my hands reaching for your succulent looking flesh, only to meet ice. Always seems a gamble with your kind.
Your eyes stare beyond me- to a cold, dark world. I find myself looking as if I too could possibly find your Hell.
As I speak your name, my lips lost in its beauty and urgency, I slowly forget who I am- who I was; as if