i brush away the dew clinging to your eyelashes, and it is sweet. nothing moves, even the air does not disturb us in this place. i can hear the distant blares of a siren, but i do not tremble to it. it smells like fresh air, like breathing the sky in and blowing it out in sheets of glass. the dirt stirs around us, the grains compressing against our skin like brown sugar. i press our temples together in the grass, and it is cold but not unbearably so. the surface of your lips ripple in the wind, the chapped sheen breaking into islands. i can no longer hear anything but your sighs, soft and intangible. i lay and i admire you from the side. it is cold. my body has grown numb, and as nature shifts around us, i remove everything in the world but you, me, and the sky. the sky is blue, it looks so big above us. so so big. you smile, i smile. i squeeze your hand.