I can't breathe.

The world is spinning; I see nothing but streaks of color and light.

Just as it feels my lungs will burst like frozen pipes in winter time,

your thumbs brush the wetness from my view 

revealing eyes like moonstones and dusty, golden hair.

In your arms, the world no longer spins.

I breathe in your scent

as if I had been underwater for years and have just now come up for air.

The stressers and triggers that had seemed so real just seconds ago

fade and become trivial as I sit,

wrapped tightly in your embrace

on your bedroom floor.