I’ve had many a confusing dream about you,
ones that have grabbed me and nearly ****** me
off the bed, and others that have made me sink
deeper
into the sheets,
caught on your every word,
knowing it will end so soon and I’ll be
reaching out my hand for your hair so I can
tuck it behind your ear and tell you that—
but then the anchor rises and the ocean splits,
a miracle switch but for me it isn’t. Its just
guilt that I wanted to hold onto you for longer
when you’re no longer mine to hold onto,
and frustration that I couldn’t even use my time
wisely, the little time that I did have.

"Maybe next time,"
I whisper into the dawn.
But then I begin to harbor some hope that
you won’t come back to me
since you’re not mine to have
and its just cruelty that brings you back to me at night
and its just cruelty that makes you leave me when the sun rises
because you
are a moon that crosses the skies
in a circular motion
and I am
only a star
that knows how to keep on flying
away from sensible notion.
I know not what safety is
and have only my dreams to guide me.