An old passage in Stream of Consciousness

The snow fell coating the ground, freezing rain freezing pain freezing time, I don’t really want to rhyme. But the way it fell everywhere, tiny marbles of water getting everywhere, inside my skin, grains of sand, rain sand, finding their way into my body. Inside my veins, just like you. There was snow like this when you looked at me the way the hail falls into my clothing. In a parked car, where so many good things happened to us it seems, outside of your house, next to a streetlamp’s flooding light so no one could see inside, no one could see the way your voice touched me. It’s always slow, slow slow slow, words, words words words, in normal voices and then whispers quiet conversation and as it gets quieter you get closer to my mouth, watching rosy lips move with a voice coated in want. Closer, until you can smell my hair and see the tips of my lashes, and a hand on my face, on my neck, smoothing out the edges, until your eyes lock onto mine and draw me closer, fingers pressing into my skin making prints, so I know you mean it, lips pressing into mine until the words dissolve. You kiss me until my voice dissolves. I like being voiceless. I like losing my voice to your kiss.