Dreaming of home 

In my dream our bodies bled together like watercolours, merging hues, new distinct patterns, skin on skin or skin under skin. A light that is indistinguishable. Each exhalation new release. Each inhalation new friend. All one movement. Time is still. There is a soft glow radiating outwards as I pull you into me. This time we come together. As one expression of the same thought. A perfect whole. Then we’re scattered again. As far as the eye can see. Maybe you never came to me at all. Maybe I only went through the act of searching you out to give my heart something to ache about. I am at home in my sadness like a cozy sweater. It scratches me in all the right places. Like I know you could too if I would stop inventing reasons to bury the hatchet. Pet cementary of insatiable desires. I am a magnet at the centre of the earth. I am a sleepwalker trapped in memories of myself. I am a note taker diligent in my observations of the half remembered. I am you, the pieces of me I’ve forgotten how to love. I am home the place I’ve been running away from. I am lover passionate mistress over my desires. I am dreamer the holy one that is reborn each morning.

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