Am I Even Making Sense?

You’ve pumped me with caffeine and I’m floating in the thickness of our love. We twist into a nakedness that can only be rivalled by my forgetfulness of the reality that knocks at our pastel perfect house of dreams. I can’t remember how to spell, as I picture your touch. I can’t remember how to work as I recall your scent. My typing is failing as your voice rings in my ears. The air chills outside, barely and we hold on tighter to stay warm. It’s a dream indeed and I am so drunk off our love my head is heavy as it lays on your chest. My arms are numb, my hands shaking and the crispness of my vision feels like the highest high. I ought to fear the come down but history speaks to the fact that the only thing coming down will be my body falling coolly into your plush bed and thus your warm arms. Sweet nothings will be exchanged and wisps of fervor will float amongst down feathers as the ceiling fan whips in a fury above us. I’ve lost myself, my heart, to you and I don’t wish for it to be found in the slightest.