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You come in dreams. Dark neon with a purpleblack sky, surreal and tropical. People with the heads of animals dancing a slow-motion conga in the street. Crooked dream logic through which we walk side by side. The cobblestones and alleys I invented. We walk past buildings painted pink painted dark by my purpleblack dream night. Cuba perhaps, but I’ve never been there. The sea is full of swimmers and sharks and sideways waves. You cry and say you are not alright. I clasp you to me. In another we paint a teacup with colored birds under blooms and blooms and magnolias. Always touching: rubbing your cheek on mine, your hand on mine, your wet kisses - I wake and feel their dampness still burning a crater in me. I wake up sweating with the ghost of your touch. My mind puts your hands on my body and I feel them linger still.
0
Apr 12, 2019
Apr 12, 2019 at 2:13 PM UTC
Even though you say you don’t love me anymore
You come in dreams. Dark neon with a purpleblack sky, surreal and tropical. People with the heads of animals dancing a slow-motion conga in the street. Crooked dream logic through which we walk side by side. The cobblestones and alleys I invented. We walk past buildings painted pink painted dark by my purpleblack dream night. Cuba perhaps, but I’ve never been there. The sea is full of swimmers and sharks and sideways waves. You cry and say you are not alright. I clasp you to me. In another we paint a teacup with colored birds under blooms and blooms and magnolias. Always touching: rubbing your cheek on mine, your hand on mine, your wet kisses - I wake and feel their dampness still burning a crater in me. I wake up sweating with the ghost of your touch. My mind puts your hands on my body and I feel them linger still.
claire-eliza-1
Written by
29/American
Apr 12, 2019
Apr 12, 2019 at 2:13 PM UTC
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