Cold smoke drifts from your mouth into mine. Needless space to pass the time, from mouth to mouth, before they intertwine. I do not have you. For not even the fairest notion of have doth have you. I feel you. Your freedom breathes on me gracefully as our lips part. I nestle my hand down and you slip yours into mine. From me, a stutter of infrequent gasps. Oh how our minds do climb.