Counting tendrils 

on the popcorn ceiling,

I raise my hand in

an orchestral fashion 

and the ground 

pulls me 

to the sky. 

Phasing through 

like a spectre, 

I watch over you.

Your birdnested bangs. 

Your eyeshadow 

frosted, 

glued to the lids.  

Your body like rippled 

velvet; I will drag these

ghastly hands across your

pale skin and 

learn to push down 

this wanting for more.