I dreamt of her
Her face, freshly pale.
Deceiving my medulla that man cannot dream of one whom does not exist
I ran my hands through the passes of her body.
At twilight her eyes lit up a sort of fire I breathed.
I bit her lip with my eyes open to see the hair at the back of her neck stand up and embrace me
I kissed her so deep with the hope that she'd forget whose air she was breathing
The thought that it was too soon for it to become our air had already surpassed.
She was a mess of a half smoked spliff and I a mess of spilled ink on an unfinished piece of handwriting
She had enough language dancing on her tongue that I understood
Her body covered in black tar as she human danced and re enacted the poetry I recited.
She mirrored me
The mirror vanished
Do not awaken me
Reality never seemed to amaze me anyway