Oh, come to me in dreams, my love!
   I will not ask a dearer bliss;
Come with the starry beams, my love,
   And press mine eyelids with thy kiss.

’Twas thus, as ancient fables tell,
   Love visited a Grecian maid,
Till she disturbed the sacred spell,
   And woke to find her hopes betrayed.

But gentle sleep shall veil my sight,
   And Psyche’s lamp shall darkling be,
When, in the visions of the night,
   Thou dost renew thy vows to me.

Then come to me in dreams, my love,
   I will not ask a dearer bliss;
Come with the starry beams, my love,
   And press mine eyelids with thy kiss.

This is not a poem of heartfelt emotions
Or of declarations of love.
This is a poem of me.

No longer will I be chained
To love's unending torture;
wishing and hoping
for the same devotion
my heart gives to you.

I will not adhere
to the burden of your perfection
I have placed upon myself.

I will simply be me.

With courage and confidence
I will break the heavy bonds of my hope.
I will burn the pretty picture
I've painted in my head
Of what we could have
Of what we might be.

I will look at who I am
And instead of wide-eyed dreaming
Of the life we could have,
I will love the girl I see in the mirror.

I will not want to alter her
Or change her in any way,
She will be everything I want her to be.

Then, I will finally achieve the perfection I long for.
Then, I will finally be free.

In love they wore themselves in a green embrace.
A silken rain fell through the spring upon them.
In the park she fed the swans and he
whittled nervously with his strange hands.
And white was mixed with all their colours
as if they drew it from the flowering trees.

At night his two finger whistle brought her down
the waterfall stairs to his shy smile
which like an eddy, turned her round and round
lazily and slowly so her will
was nowhere—as in dreams things are and aren't.

Walking along avenues in the dark
street lamps sang like sopranos in their heads
with a voilence they never understood
and all their movements when they were together
had no conclusion.

Only leaning into the question had they motion;
after they parted were savage and swift as gulls.
asking and asking the hostile emptiness
they were as sharp as partly sculptured stone
and all who watched, forgetting, were amazed
to see them form and fade before their eyes.

Stubbornly holding the glass fragments of what once was
Refusing to lose hope completely
But the fragments slowly dwindle
With each bump in the road
Until I have only one left
With the rest surrounding my cold, blue toes
Which have become numb with the coldness I feel
With this last piece of us, what could I do?
I want to desperately to hold on until forever
But I can't
Because you won't
And you didn't
So with much concentration I let the last piece fall down
Wincing as it cuts through my heart