I had a dream the other night.
I could lie and say it was about you.
But I was more entranced by the light.

The heat suffocated thick as smoke,
like a stove left on too long.
I choked beside you, gasping there,

The stone’s sharp edge pressed into me,
and your eyes—
slid soft, yet cut like knives.

"I like heat waves, sweat on my brow."
What a liar, I smiled. Summer dries you out.
You conjure storms in these times.

Yes, the weather choked me.
But do not mistake this for cruelty.
I would not use honesty to hurt.

I know dreams are like candies—
tempting, dangling in front of me,
summers I can never see.

I outgrew the sweater my grandmother gave me-
I would not let myself be rocked like a baby
in a dreamscape I can never call mine.

So I will think of sunshine,
how it burned my skin
more than you stained mine.

I can have more summers.
if I am lucky, even ninety-nine—
but not another you in my life.

For I had a dream the other night,
and I lied when I said it was not about you—
it was about the weather, burning bright
'