You said that you loved the idea of air,
How all of us are surrounded by invisible,
Often overlooked particles that gives us life,
How they are weightless, boundless,
Gentle but powerful,
The fine line between life and death.

But whenever you draw close,
Air retreats, my breath halts,
And i’m caught in my throat,
So I start breathing you instead.
The perfume you wear,
The shampoo in your hair,
The natural scent of your skin.
They all become the atmosphere
That i rely on to feel alive,
Everywhere all at once.

So i built you a treehouse,
In the heartiest oak i could find,
Where the sky feels close enough to touch,
And the oxygen enveloping us is
Freshly produced by nearby leaves,
Where only our breath mingles,
Where your laugh infuses warmth in the air
It is perfect for sustaining...