Tantalize

Pretty words, dancing in my mind, tickling my tongue, colorful like summer fruit, I can almost feel them Almost is a mountain They skitter away like ghosts in the corner of your eye They fail to exist mocking me in their intangibility They need to be touchable gliding beneath my fingertips pressed into my skin I grab at steam pull at fog I will not cease I must feel them Skin prickling and hair raising red hot frigid Soft like warm greetings Luminescent Blossom Bubbling Soliloquy Harsh like brush bristles Wretched Serpentine Extinguished Demise They need to live. They need to breathe. I press with my futile lungs And they are my tragedy.