In every ache and pain, and with each blink of my eyes, she gives a poll dance to the stars before falling into my arms. Short skirt. Black tights. Legs like scissors. Arms like wings, wings that swoop through the air with each feather like a knife to my throat as she forces the words right out of me. As I spit and stutter, she flutters at the speed of sound. As I collapse into a heap, she seeps in until she’s in my blood. Mixed with spit, and we are more than holy and we are more than lovers for we are spirits circling gravestones while spiralling through the air like helicopter leaves caught in a gust of wind that takes us through the valleys to the seas that cradle the shadows of the heavens above. Within a sudden and sweet embrace, we are bursts of electricity and we are impulses sent from God into the minds of all the animals as they run through the forest with the fairies and dragonflies that know not of death but of the thirst for living. In each gasp of air, we seek meaning. In each kiss, we taste something more, something that calls to us from the peaks of all the mountains to the bottom of the Challenger Deep. Alone and yet at one with absolutely everything, our bodies are not bodies but thoughts that have been travelling for billions of years waiting to reach each other and now they have they swirl like galaxies and dreams that never end soaked with the scent of oranges and nectar that drips from her lips like honey.