pocket of snow.

pockets full of snow,

hands cold as i tuck them in.

and in propinquity, i imagine:

that in all the moments left,

so quiet, with nothing to show,

so motionless, we are snow:

falling, from outreached heights

where all we thought was,

oh, how, like air, we are light.

and like a forest of trees, 

we are too tall to see the 

ground beneath our fallen knees.

something like love.

i swallow the sun and let its delicate flames
curl into my lungs like the heat of a California forest fire
it fills them up, expanding like a hot air balloon,
pressing together, congesting my heart between them
punching the tender muscle black and blue, blood dripping
down into pericardium, and I am surrounded by red heat.

my breath catches in my throat, burning on my tongue,
while lifesource chokes the pulse in my arms. soon,
i am blue, lips shivering, toes tingling, and eyes blurring
stuffed full with cotton, and now i am falling.
and there is no greater fall than this.
freefalling through the dreams like Alice
in a Wonderland of flames, licking at my skin
like mischievous zephyrs riding on a current.

I can only hope, that you will catch me at the
bottom of the sky, where the land caresses
the under belly of the luminous sun.
but for now, i feel the blood in my veins
stilling, and i am unsure.
I only know this feeling, like falling
drowning in soul magic, soft like fairy wings
and zinging like static against my teeth
while i kiss you goodnight.