Mangled Ampersands

I live in a world that I'm not sure you know, cold but pretty - painted in shades of rainbow. There's something to warmth, but it's all far away - somewhere past the horizon, humming through another day.

You and I, we mean more than we seem, all awkward legs and tangled hands (mangled ampersands). There's more to us than we like to think, implications frozen cold, shifting away from us as wind shifts sand.

I think your world to be hotter than most, a steaming turmoil of grays and reds. You toss about, and are confused, pretending to be strong, like snakes and storms, but are only thus: lost and scared. I'd rather like to show you color, so long as you show me heat.

But wind and time are ruthless architects, and sand does not hold long. Ampersands are only abbreviations, and days fade away over the horizon, taking rainbows and storms for songs.