Craters from your past, they glow,the glow of bittersweet episodes.
I'm captivated.
Curled up in craters, a view of imperfect perfection.
Your skin is as a bug in a rug,tanned from lives, rush of recherché to my body through my palms.
What are you dreaming of?
A hitch of breathing, parting the clouds;my troubles have parted.
Me? (are you dreaming of me)
The sun?
Shining bright in your thoughts, I can hear your moon dust giggling about.
It's me, isn't it?