euphoric, isn’t it?

a sky that we can

touch with our finger tips

one filled with

melodic blue and crimson red

air pushing our faces

that we breathe so slowly.

next to you is a view you’re locked from,

all your aspirations and your fears

a painting we point out,

as every new detail is created

I feel every emotion

when our shoulders touch.

each mile, our ground shakes

a world you hate,

yet one I want to hold you in.

but how do we speak

when both our words seem locked?

maybe by a melody, maybe a glance

I hope it reaches you well.