You are the figure who passes by my window;
The black that breaks the uniformity of the light
The stain that breaks the white folds of my curtain
The shape my heart throbs at sight.

You are the shadow I peek across my sills
The silhouette I long to meet
The fiction I fancy to be real
The phantasm I recall, over and over, in my head.

You are but real as a dream;
So near, yet far.

I look at the bottle suffixed -light
At how the depth of space inside it consumes deeper down
While the night grows fuller we fill ourselves of drinks stronger
With the kick of throat burning liquor
Of the stomach heating acid
from the brandy we'd enjoy to empty.

You spoke my name.
It was a whisper
of innumerable decibels
but enough
for a heart to thump louder
than the thoughts in my head
which laid near your lips
breathing chills against my skin
freezing me from the time
I was trying to find a star
in the four cornered
motion slowing room
hoping for a wish
   let this time stop
       before we're burdened of this secret
   let me savor those innocent lips
      who unbelievably will surrender to my sinful soul
   let not a single second pass without remark
      for this night might be our last.
Then you spoke my name again,
with your eyes closed,
your lashes, breathing
all peaceful,
all saying,
I was in your dream.