Sitting on that ****** excuse for a bed I dreamt of a world In four dimensions.
A world in which Every version of ourselves That had ever sat And would ever sit On that bed Were there with us then.
And I heard and felt your Hundred different Heart beats From those hundred Different moments
I felt all of your life And pure energy Pulsing into the hundred Different versions of myself And suddenly I understood Why the heart Is such a powerful metaphor For love
Of course there were Two hundred different laughs too- Four hundred kissing lips, A thousand Whispered secrets.
But then slowly All those different versions Of ourselves That had ever sat And would ever sit On that bed Filtered out In the order In which they came in Until eventually Just the two of us Were left
I was unsurprised By the lack Of future selves But that didn't mean The fact didn't dig into my skin And make my heart beat A little quicker; A littler more urgent.