Your name crashes into me sometimes
like falling planes driven by dead pilots.

It’s then that I remember I’ve dreamt of you.

Your voice is faint
in dreams where I’ve known you for years.
And your skin is
tight
and scarred.
But I dare not lay a finger on you
even in dreams.

I don’t know the sounds you make
when scared
or loved.
I don’t know the rhythm of your voice,
the pattern in your words.

But I know
I’ve an empty heart
that I’d love to fill
with you.