in dreams we split
like atoms,
heaving out words
that seek truth
and glances
like knives.
funny little things
float behind my eyelids
as though
they have a right.

hazy sunlight
seeps in through
his basement window
and my mossy eyes
flicker and expand,
stealing shadows
of his sleeping form-
there is truth
in freckles and
pale blue veins
that twists and sings
until I'm tongue tied
leaning on a syllable.

we make love
like thieves,
hanging delicate
ideas from the ceiling
to clear a space
in his king sized bed
for something more,

for something real-
it flows through my veins
and drips from my fingers,

something like love.