Iced Air

I like to taste each drop of iced air trickling down my throat,

Savour all the melodies carried in on the ancient wind.

I like to wish the coolness into my skin,

Feel the textures coursing through my pumping, purple veins.

I like to feel my heart beating against my heavy lungs,

As a sluggish second lengthens,

And I let go of the breath I took from the sky

Pouring them back into the silky breeze.

I like to enjoy how it feels to breathe.

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About pasameerday

I haven't got a lot of time to keep you interested, so I'll be quick. I'm a writer from the UK, primarily of fantasy and sci-fi short stories, and occasionally of strange, nonsensical poetry. I like cats, the Sims, and pizza, and I go to sleep to the sound of a keyboard. I've been writing for my entire life; to be honest, I don't think I could ever bring myself to stop. I have a feeling I'm losing you, so I'll bring this to an end before you slowly start to back up, hoping I'll stop talking long enough for you to make a quick getaway. Wait... Where are you going? Hey! Wait! ... Stop!!
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