I Have This Reoccuring Dream

I have this reoccuring dream

In which I am loved.

That is it.

That is the poem.

Short.

Because it never lasts

It never lasts.

The idea of you spending the rest of your life with me makes me sick.

Which is to say I do not think it would be fair of me to sentence you to the rest of your time with me. What a shame it would be for your years to be wasted on us .

What a tragedy for your infinite love to be reduced to soft smiles and to drip slowly through cupped palms. Reduced to weathering skin and decomposing dreams.

I do not think I could bare, chaining you to us. When I know there is so much out there calling to be known by you.

What a sin it would be, for your infinity to be stifled by my desire for a fleeting eternity with your unfathomability. Your soul a broken record of lost potential.

I do not think either of us would be happy, for long. The endless loop of what could have been, lulling us to sleep and waking us at dawn. The winding melody threading itself between us as we hold eachother in the dark.

Your unfuillment clouding the windows. My guilt cracking the floorboards. The rements of our love sitting in a shoe box at the top of the closet. A fond memory of our youth that evokes more slammed doors than it should when we dust it off over a glass of Nostalgia. We don't know why it makes us so angry. So sad. To recall that we have become nothing of what we thought we would.

I think fate would forever resent me. For stealing you away from her. Life plotting our drifting slowly. Poking holes in our roof, flooding the kitchen sink, fiddling with the thermostat so its never quite right.

Until we find the silence (a once soft blanket we giggled under in the pillow fort we made in the living room)-- thread bare. Itchy. Fraying. Slowly unraveling. Until we find ourselves sleeping back to back. Holding hands awkwardly for photographs. Not talking until noon after 3 cups of water downed coffee. Dinners eaten at different times and tight lipped smiles with sad sighing eyes as we cross unexpectedly in the one bathroom in our appartement.

All of the kisses I brush across your cheek tasting of apology. Both of us trying to hard to let it be enough. Life, a spited lover picking us apart slowly. It would never forgive me. I would never forgive me.

I do not want that with you. I want forever with you. And I think the only way, for us to have that, is for me to let you go.

But love,

Please

Come back

And visit

I will patiently await your breif moments of return. Savor the sticky honey footprints you trek into the house. Every step dripping in hope. You-- drenched in life.

Wring out your sun soaked skin over the bath tub while you tell me tales of the way the universe has made love to you an infinite number of intricate revaltions.

Your eyes sparkling with a garden of blooming constellations that would have long ago wilted if I asked you to stay. Let the glittering of the stars in your gaze tell me I made the right choice. That it would have been selfish to keep you,  in all your miracle, to myself.

The taming of your galaxy. Until it be consumed by its own blackhole in self preservation. Making itself small enough to plaster itself across my bedroom ceiling. Call it the sacrifices you made for love.

No. I would rather miss you recklessly gentle. My longing tinged with the knowledge that you will return, to assure me that that love I refused to take from you is being spent well. That the time I refused to steal from you is being spent well.

My needing double dipped in the the belief

That

You

Will

Come

Back

To

Me

If only to rest your weary soul, a moment. My little shooting star. My little galaxy. And tell me tales of your travels, without me.

I am holding our love in my arms

She is dying

She is bleeding out

I don’t know how to save her

~

I did it

I didn’t mean to

Oh god, what have I done?

What have I done,

My love

~

She stains my hands with

Memories of us

As I try to staunch the bleeding

Exhales butterflies that die on her lips

Whispers to me

Of everything she could have become.

Says she doesn't blame me

But I do

But I do

And where were you when it happened?

In another universe the sky is always pink and I didn't give up on you, in another universe I'm a better person and magic is real and in an another one we still walk around the streets at late night holding hands and in another, we are together

I wonder who I could have become if I had been loved.

The sun tosses herself into the arms of the sea

His vast embrace, the only thing she has never felt too infinite for

She takes comfort in being swallowed whole for the night 

Savours the sensation of being devoured 

~ oh celestial love, even the sun longs to be encompassed sometimes, for it is no weakness to desire to be held. you are never too much for someone who cannot get enough of you.