I was sleeping in my dream the other night
maybe that's how I knew it was a dream
I rolled over and inhaled the smell of aftershave
on pillows and realized I was in your room
in the morning when we wake
your retriever bounds in the door
of the granny-flat, tail wagging, throws her weight
on top of me. my two favourite girls you say,
then you shower, mouthwash, shave,
make breakfast in your house near the sea
with nobody except your dog, an imaginary you,
and a little part of me.

When I wake I think I'm still there
but I'm not where I thought I was
my bedroom is cold and cramped in a city apartment,
a car alarm outside wakes me with a start
my neck is stiff from the singleness of this bed.
I sit up and can see myself in the reflection
of my mirror in the dark. Just me.
I roll over and ignore, just before I fall back asleep,
I wonder to myself if everyone has
that same split second of splendid
between consciousness and dreams
that everything is the way it used to be,
before reality come crashing in like a big, dangerous tidal wave.

I dread falling back asleep.

Back at the shore, on my own this time,
I'm free now, yes, but alone.
I'm left with nothing,
No pain,
No rhyme,
On a beach less sand than stone.


The tide still licks the shore for crumbs,
But nothing hides beneath.
No voice calls out in dark, feigned scorn,
No stoic secretly cries for release.


The world outside worked magic for real,
It promised us strength in identity,
But now I'm just beginning to feel,
There's actually something wrong with me.


I can't go back until I know,
That your death has served some purpose.
What chance is there, to survive and grow,
When even ghosts can hurt us?


"Perhaps", I said, "it's all unspoken", aloud,
To myself, discovering,
How words can wound but silence drowned,
A heart that's still recovering.