In my alternate world, I shared a dream last night.
Where he lay alone, searching for a life to light.
But the man who thrives himself, is split in two.
But stitches arise from the sea soaked in ocean's blue.
None were beasts, but they they all bore crowns.
Each fed right through me: hidden in their gowns.

He remains in two: one to dream, one to die.
When I'm fully drained; prepared for one to fly,
a crown-less shade appears: face shares plenty.
The opposite of he: whose face conveys empty.

A shade to stitch: a ghost whose life shares he.
I dream of him, and he dreams of me.
But the dreams I dream, are mirrors of he.
While he is nothing: but the emptiness of me.