The mere thought of you, in close quarters. I shake. I sweat. Exhale smoke as panic sets in and my throat closes around the increased heart rate.You are my red dawn, my purple haze, my white widow. My anatomy has been rearranged in the rush of your pupils, so dilated. Forcing a swallow, my heart shrinks back behind it’s defense, my own pure vulnerability. Dead-set eye contact piercing past the ignited bowl, making me weak. But you’ll never see it. You’ll never hear this pass from my lips, the ones slowly whispering your name through milky haze. A deep wanting, cowering behind every perfected syllable. You’re taking me to the never. I can’t name you and these walls allow no one. Are you real? In word and stature. The feel of your skin is an alternate dimension. Another hit, and nothing is left but your eyes, northern lights dancing around an eclipse and you breathe me out like the U.S.S Never.