Dandelion Snow

The premonition of a whisper

whisks me away,

foretelling tales of weightlessness.

Like an equally-weighted flower

the wind in your voice,

the pressure,

of but an inhale,

lifts me up,

benignly..

Delicately..

To your daintily quivered smirk of

sympathy..

Whilst

slowly..

And

gently..

Removing my pedals

until that which I am is no longer.

Coasting upon the wake of an exhale,

as that final pedal folds..

Unveiling an apocryphal world,

one that has been shattered and dispersed,

not unlike the seed of a mid-summers dandelion..

In a subtle gesture,

you lift me to your kiss-

shaped lips,

but only to apply an

adhesive with the dead skin

left upon a smile,

and you let me go.