unspoken happiness lines my lips
as she quips that one needs wit to keep up with me
there were moments in the glacial cold when i would glance briefly at your hands, shaking with starlight (or just freezing, one of the two). i could feel our distance, intentional and silent like the mountains.
is the idea grander than this reality?
when i look into your eyes, i cannot tell the time. i cannot feel the cold seeping into my 7 layers of clothes. i cannot feel the snow, nor the immense stomachache that consumes me at this altitude. i do not recognize thirst or exhaustion.
this is not luck we feel.