Favorite Phase of Matter

I want to be air.

Particles of insensitive, nip-biting

Life- givers

Who could never bond or touch

Their counterparts

Or else their love will

Be made visible, compact,

And would fall to the ground

I want to enter her lungs

To touch and make each bronchioles bloom

Let rich red flow through blue veins

And make her breathe me in more

I want to blow past her hair, 

Flowing upwards, as if God wanted to feel 

His kindness and softness still alive

On this planet of grinding mental and dirt

I want to encompass her, fully 

Press against the back of her knees

And tickle gooseflesh by the back of her neck

Hug her tightly from behind 

As much as my invisible particles can allow

A forceful force of nothingness

And I want to be the last thing to leave her

Gathering our memories, and slowing the body down

Each lungful worth a thousand Earths

Each chest heave worth more than a third chance

Before we leave our physical bodies in a last exhale 

Our last choice

Made together