It’s like kissing a whisper,
thinking of you and
feeling a phantom of your breath.
Being alone yet occupied
by an aura of your presence.
A hesitant thought of you frayed
into a ribbon of a million dreams.
My mind, as quiet as it seems,
staccatos your lines,
the voice of your rhymes,
into a pandemonic performance.
The notes clashing onto walls;
therefore hence the smell
of wooden instruments
playing your actions in mezzo forte.
For they keep my heart in beat
as my trust, your audience, takes it seat.
Feeling a phantom of your breath,
thinking of you
It’s like kissing a whisper.
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