Fantasia

For a small time, I was hers (and she, my everything).
Every breath I took inhaled her scented scent,
Every sight I saw shone of her shining self,
and every nerve of my being quivered from the warmth of her warm breath.

We held each other in that time,
and for a breath I found myself wrapped around her, wrapping around me.
In that moment merely a breath was enough to shake my being,
bathing me in warm, wet warmth.
A soft pool…a tender, warm, rosy brown spiral of arm wrapped around body wrapped around arm,
and a gentle wave of slow, heavy warm breath,
sent the softest eye I hold within to sink asleep, at last at rest.

How could I run from she who was my everything?
Why, could I even move , what but toward her?
How still the very sight had rendered my motionless –commanded me commandless,
yet still the moment of reprise and petrified inklings proved not to prove my fear,
instead a sigh sighing content, and I content- being the sigh and breathing contentedly.

Sadly, for a moment I cannot be myself,
or rather shall we say that which is myself evolves again in too fast a time.
How could I hope to devolve again (or perhaps evolve)? Yet alas, the wall I hold again,
and in the blink within a blink a change I shall be:  the analyst as the analyst was. Never hold again-
simply to watch and to dream in rosy pink.