the fever dream of our love
curls like the smoke of a
cigarette around the
window frame,

begging to be let loose
into the wild to dance
around the sun like
a child who has no
burden

it smiles back at us
softly, as if it can
sense the sorrow
it has left
behind

we are left
without a dream
stumbling along
trying to grow
and breathe
with half
of our soul
wrapped around
the sun