Senses Census: Attack of the Seventh

I finally said the words aloud.
The taste of my breath,
before hitting the air turned cold.
"I'm over you."
The sound of my voice.
A deep crescendo,
with a side of gratification
made my senses explode.

The four chambers of my heart,
working for each other again,
pumps a rich warm blood back into my veins.

My color takes the shape of florescent hues,
only to bring me back to where I'm from,
a golden brown with caramel tones.

The pattern of my fingertips,
longing to be touched again,
but,
with different hands.

Everything smells so glorious now,
my lungs are singing their praises,
for oxygen is my friend again.

And black only infiltrates my being,
on days of mourning,
because time's breath has healed me.