POLLUTING

your profile is available in silhouettes and your hair 
dark bleeds into the cracks on the mountain
your voice only reaches the rim of my ear but your
laughter sleeps in the prancing of my heart. a careful brush of
cloth, your right arm aligns that of my left and i am 
afraid to move, your warmth aways my inherent fear, i 
wish to look at you but your eyes are well alive, lids of 
soft pillowcase, gently slid over your dim-litted half moons, i have realizations
of your temperature
kept as a secret