If not for you, I am but your dream. Only that.
Yet now, it seems, I have you,
at peace with your dreams within mine.
Love and hope and pain can all sleep, anew,
like twirled, lit ferris-wheels at night, combined.
If not for you, I am but your dream. Only that.
Singularly, Lover, sleep with our extremes.
Together, through places the thump and thought go,
delicate fingers pry open clenched themes,
to rest, open palmed, a release to bestow.
If not for you, I am but your dream. Only that.
7.30.2008
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