...

The spirits conspire with the night sky to change nightmares to reality I could crave--flip book style.

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond

i am sure the beat pulses from the lights, so i reach as i dance,
sure that if the two on the end weren't burnt out,
the light would meet my fingertips halfway

Before I stumbled in, eyeliner smudged and hair casting mad shadows, I had discovered truth.

any experience, your eyes have their silence:

it's not magic, only an 8 light strobe, two lights short

I re-read it

'i hope we will meet in my dreams. i am craving your thoughts.'

and fall into bed.

And so I wonder, the whole way here...
when you close letters that way,
is it my face or my thoughts that visit you in dreams?
I wonder, too, if you know how when you're curled into that ball, eyelashes resting on flushed cheeks, you embody that peaceful rest cliche'.
If you don't, let me assure you--you do.

in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,

The sun pours in, you stir and I wake up was i sleeping?
to wonder where you went--until I remember.

I stretch and sigh...

As I dream, the sun is high in your sky.
And you...
                you're a world away.

or which i cannot touch because they are too near

Oh, the regret of never reaching out to touch your face...

italicized, right aligned lines from somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond by e.e. cummings

merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily
life is but a dream...

*

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