In a dream I realised I didn't want you
In it we were painting murals on my ceiling
It was dark but light enough to see the outline of your face
I hoped it was the street light shining through the bent blinds
On my tip toes I stood just reaching the wall
Each of us drew our own delirious dreams.


Your face appeared in front of mine
The back of my neck stretching,
my fingertips reaching out to touch your cheeks
usually rose but now green,
fluorescent and bright.
It was morning