Glacial melting of an ice qeen

Living between days, no longer within days. Floating. Without boundaries my organs fall out of place, a body without skin, without bones. Thoughts bubble out, pushing everything aside. And pop. Gone again. Catching thoughts like butterflies. Chasing the ever evasive insect of idea, only to watch it escape the net.

Where is my mind? Not here. Lost in the summer time. I can remember where and when - without making sense. Images in my consciousness, the front seat, long hair, and cold beers. Did that happen here or from some invasive dream? No, it was shaggy hair and bright moon nights. It was dark streets. It was your hand in mine. It was the prologue to our reverie.

It was a crowded field. It was helping a cute drunk girl piss. It was your kisses, your hands, on me. It was the heat, it was exhaustion. It was poor impulse control. It was your lips, telling me where we go from here. It was just you and me, among a million other bodies. The dots, the lines, the colors, the blurred images of three days four nights rolled into one memory. It became us, not them, not her, nor him.

It was road trips, it was artists, it was after parties. It was one huge stain on the passenger side. It was that hot, hot tent, no cover, and PB&J crackers. It was that freezing knuckle numbing shower. It was the fireworks on the water we missed. It was taking a 25 dollar cab ride in one big circle. It was a straight marriage in a gay part of town. It was hallucinogenic, it was raining, it was my doe eyes and please. Asking please, could we just do what I felt like.

and it was you sighing, but saying yes. Its you sighing enough of the time, but still saying yes to me. It's my heart, just a puddle at your feet.