burnt & sticky

you had a dream about him last night. he climbed through your window and whispered
something you did not want to hear. he muttered fast and dark, thunderclouds
on a horizon. see them against the mountains, billowing.
you screamed. you did not know if it was at him
or into your pillow. words words words flew
from your hands and teeth and you cried.

i had a dream about him last night. he learned how to breathe, how to look
into the crystal sphere and be excited. his parents wrapped him up
in paper-filled arms and he reclaimed his ink.
i cried, but not about him. i cried for him. string wrapped around my ankles
and the air tasted like promise.

maybe he lives in a dream, in a memory. maybe he looks for himself in the depths of others'
subconcious.

sometimes he finds himself, i think. he clasps his own dream-hand;

and pulls himself into a dance.