the night is darker on your lips
my hips are dreaming while
your touch is searching for its meaning

We never really knew each other.

Sure, we texted nonstop.
You stared at me in the halls.
But missed chances and glances were all we had.
We never had a real conversation.
(Maybe things would have been different if we did.)

All my memories of you
consist of my face lit by a bright screen,
sitting in the darkness of my bedroom,
wishing for you—desperately—at 11:11.

silence, heat, witnessing and forgetting, waiting, dried flowers in my hearing, they all grow wiser in the light that doesn't stop growing
shhh, I don't want to disturb you when your body is dreaming

Are we dreaming again?
We’re pollen
Whirling in the sky, oscillating between low and high.
Pendulum swinging freely but always coming back to me.
We’re just dreaming.
What would I do without your fantasy?
As much as it hurts, this is sanctity.
Let’s confront this transfixion. Why come all this way to be written as fiction? We could transcend this tension, even though we’re so afraid.
I’d love you again anyway,
if you would just wait for me.

The luxury of the imagination is the
dream without boundaries.

I am the keeper of time
The universe is my domain

Flying through time
is simply a thought manifested

You're mine again
You're here in my arms

I have total control
No broken hearts

Smiles and laughter abound
I can feel you again

Touch you again
Your spirit fills the room

Trying hard to hang on
Reality is the battle I'm fighting

If I let go, you're gone
If I hang on, I'm gone

Through a tunnel I walk.
Stumbling upon the demons I stalk.
Straining to understand their words.
Yet afraid of what their message may hold.
The walls and path are all ablur.
As further along I do blunder.
Stumbling and falling,
To rise once more.
Searching for a magical door.
To release me from this caliginous gambit.
Then the goblins and trepidation omit,
To deliver me anew to the suns bright glare.
And release me once more from the captivity of despair

when the silence of leaves comes to me
I dream of continents of clouds, yes, don't be surprised
I dream for Grandma too, she never saw them
not today, not tomorrow, but sometimes, who knows,
when my hands would be continents for you
I'll lend you my skin just for a moment,
just long enough to feel it lift me up and I'll
jump off it like on a trampoline back into
my own burrow - the salty, marine wonder of
blinking thoughts without orbit

poetry, this dear wasting like an unheard music,
the dissolving mint of dreaming
in Nichita's horses' mane
all day long god seems to be combing
the clouds that overflow in cascade,
always ruffled, like the shadows of thoughts

My perspective between the rusty leaves
is a dream house on the edge of the forest
picked up on the way, in the fall

Rich colours in the sun caress
the wooden skin flakes
of Mother Earth

and I am passing by
just a moment
a guest