In my dream you stood
spilling rivers of crystalline hopes
sowing sanguinity for harvest,
watching as I asphyxiated, grasping at flimsy rationale.
In my dream you laid down to look at the sky
and in that moment I took and was taken.
There are days when I wish
to rip the clouds from your eyes
watching as each gauzy tendril snaps
from your bark colored prison
floats, undulating, formless,
to a home carved for anyone else.
In my dream your clouds were taken, lost
and as two hard halves of a boiled egg stared up
I peeled back the translucent film to inspect
what had been hidden.
Reaching, I pulled out garish stars which seared my skin,
an acrid aroma enveloping us as you let me play operation.
Orion’s belt came easy and you chuckled as I tried it on,
lamenting, it clashed with the north star you placed about my neck.
Into the obscurity that had become your eyes,
in my dream you stood.