If time should freeze, you should hold me

As my futile hands
Reach to your bridges
And they burn.

My worthless desires
Rise in smoke
As the cold-morning fog
Mingles with the warmth in the sound of your voice;

The tender accolade of your voice
Brushes against my ears softly
Caressing every part of my shivering body
As the psychedelic sounds of our surroundings
Drape us in a ballad of mysticism
When our nude souls shape up in shuffled-intermittent pieces of breath,
While the pink-pink sunrise overfills our eyes
With that elvish galore of subtle tones
Mixing with the tones of your skin
Evolving into a sweetened flavor of dissolving yearn for
Tasting the charming obsession of you.