Of Waking Dreams

I had thought myself awoken,
though in truth caught within a waking dream –
you lying naked and warm within my
fevered embrace; your arms but
tender branches cradling my desires
and youthful anxieties.

The gray and veiled mist of morning
dusting your trembling salted lips, and one
kiss to melt the dew; each breath
an exhalation of promise and possibility
Silken strands of your fragrant hair
run in random rivulets across my pillow;
Your porcelain cheek presses lightly
upon my chest, and I cannot but
weep deep within my sleep as I
drift slowly upward through the ether
of my dreams.

I am awake now, as
my midnight reverie quickly dissipates,
and all the worse, I am alone once more.
Cursed dreams and cursed more the waking
thereof – for I cannot suffer this loss nightly,
nor will I ever love as deeply.

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