American Spirits in her lungs, feathers in her hair, the beads that hold her prayers wrapped around her neck. When an out-of-body experience lifts her up and shes floating, and shes folding. The pillow that blocks her eyes and steals her breath. She wears sweaters on the hottest day of the year and smiles when she cries. And when I kiss her, she isn't thinking. She breathes in tunes to nursery rhymes and thinks I'm beautiful with out my make up on. I feel the need to pull apart my rib cage so I can physically hand her my heart. I always want to be someone when I'm with her, but I always lose myself in her presence. She has no recollection of time and runs her hands through my hair and sends shivers down my spine.