You had such brave innocence,
when you pushed me down to the floor.
My center of gravity shifted longitudinally,
English Gothic style.
Sitting up made me dizzy,
so I didn't.
I was a black bear, and you were my little
squirrel friend visiting
my cave, with my music and we, tinged in an aquamarine glow.
Sporadically, you'd get the urge to scamper around me.
You'd twist your bones to
move against my paws,
your teeth against my ear.
I commend you thus;
you never once questioned the moment.
When our breathing got haggard and every particle of mist
that clouded the air swam thoroughly through my vision,
my eyes blurred. Swallowing the urge to
expel my distaste for the unsatisfied tension,
I pretended my heart was a moon floating somewhere near Saturn.
It only becomes dangerous when you feel.
Still quite longitudinal,
my eyes widened to accommodate my expanding pupils,
as they searched for light.
They fixated on the pinprick of a star seven years old and
light years away, with its own