I need you to need me

The petals whispered a gentle touch on my body, each one bending to form the outline of every curve. They floated around me; thousands of daisies dancing on top of the water. Each breath I exhaled left bubbles in its wake, pushing the daisies apart. Weightless, I let the softness of the flower float me with them. I was suspended; nothing above to pull me, nothing beneath to catch me. Just the gentle touch of thousands of petals. My sight adjusted to the light in the bathroom as I sat back up. I reached towards the squeaking faucets to turn the streams of hot water off. The blue early day light swam with my reflection in the bath tub. A rush of wind from the opened window disturbed the stillness and formed waves that crashed against my skin. Trembling, I wrapped a towel around my shivering shoulders, my footsteps leaving puddles behind them. The foggy mirror let no vanity oppress the vulnerability of my dormant hallucinations. I let the towel drop to the ground along with the excess water from my body. The speed in which it hit the floor echoed the timeless trance with a silent thump.
The pedals penetrated the wind, pushing through it to gain speed. My hair refused to move with me, leaving its trace fluttering behind my head. The grip on the handles was numbingly cold, fighting for absolute control over the bikes' direction. The wheels touched the ground with constant rotation, each time a different surface, each time the same touch. My breath increased its rhythm, with each a warm cloud was released beneath my nose. My body gained its heartbeats, blood rapidly flowing through me, wetting my palms as it passed. Each muscle harshly tensed, with every pulse quick biting wind pinching my skin, limiting my eyesight. My forehead burning with sweat.
Purely intimidating, temptingly inviting; perfection. The water, the wind, the clouds, the sun. On top, above, beneath, below. They sang and breathed and painted the picture in which I stood, my bike resting on my hip. I had died that morning; drowned in a bed of petals. I had died that evening; burnt by the caressing wind. I had died that instant; blinded by beauty. There is no way to live, except to die