eat my dust, quitters! (playscrabble)

But what leaves us out of breath the most isn't the moments spent on a bed too small for two but the expense of our hearts by the labor of our bodies. I guess that two float around the point. But I wanna say it's more than just those moments, at least more than the surface. It's the tempo within those seconds where time seems to slow to a crawl and I can't help but fall into the rhythm of your skin and your shaking breath and I sink into the warmest dreams and the softest skin.