In a dream
a smile as routine
as a dying star born to pass
and it was not I
but rather the secret
of a new lie
that slipped off of your tongue
and into my hell
winged words from the heavens fell
plunging into my years
salt-tears, aftertaste, the looming waves
pulling the skin, and signaling
clenched fingers, circling
emerging from the sea
drawing around me
such warmth with which you held me
made me a moment
within seconds I'm scattered
I'm sand between your nervous hands
and it was your dream that told me
it was okay to live like this again
