Frost in the air we breathe

To me,
a room is a cell.
I am standing still,
a changing image
of the real.

In a far room,
another – walking
into that perfection.
Salt and wind
in her hair.
A scent, so deep
and ripe.

Between dream
and dream,
a starlit cave.
A tilt of the wind,
and we are face to face –
and skin to skin.

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