you were in the edges of my dream
taking a careful flight into my shielding mind
where monsters chased me and mountains
waited in the distance
you snuck in through the doors, ever cracked slightly
(I thought I locked them ages ago)
you trudged through the river that led from my brain
to the veiny webs of blood running through my body
as my heartbeat hummed me asleep
you sang the rhythm, you flooded the stadium
of my once-naked consciousness
that has now been bundled up so tightly
and my departure from that sleep
proved that it was real, that indeed you had been there
because the souvenirs of your existence were there,
your unblinking brown eyes, the curve of your spine
for a moment, I thought opening my eyes meant
waking to you
that we had yet to leave the couch we slept upon
the morning we watched the sunrise, trying to ignore the
hours draining,
moments fading,
you were in my sleep, and you were in my morning
so heavy in my mind
it was as if
your arms, your muscles, your bones
had pulled me from my sleep
themselves.