Your Arctic Gust

Unconscious thoughts of you

Photo by Ajay Karpur on Unsplash

I lay my back down on the bed
Random thought, rotating reels
Tick at your shallow dew
In your fading aura, azure
Your lips creasing mine in a blink,
The eclipsing mind goes slumber,
The sensual smell that elf brew
It’s different, its love; it’s a slayer
Memories hit as an arctic gust.