In the forest, trees turn the sky into
aluminium foil, all creased and textured-
shattering glass, like my fingers
touching yours.
I'm sure my eyes look like
cherry blossom avenue between
your house and mine
when I'm looking at you.
In the forest, the sky looks bluer,
the leaves look greener
and I hear the world breathe,
and I hear the world breathe.
Colours become more tangible
and the world is no longer a light show
but thick paint that I can touch
and dip my fingers into.
Can you imagine? The colour
dripping from the leaves in the forest,
tattoos on your wrists, my head on
your painted shoulder.
Can you imagine the colour
of the sound the world makes
when it breathes through its branches
and sings through its leaves?
I'm sure I'm alive when
I hear the world breathe.
