breath, touch, breath
pacing the feast of eyes.
Aflame approaching cinders,
bound tightly in the denial of taking the fall.
But those hands stay braced
against the filmy shield between,
grazing over imperfections imprinting the surface.
Hurry to slow the pace, devouring
scents as time flies beyond the sunrise.
One frozen moment left for savoring
as thoughts of fingertips and shivers resurface.