| �Perhaps,� you said, �You live too much
inside your dreams,� I felt you flinch and fade for my dreams were not of you � �Perhaps,� I said, �You cannot live at all in me for my oceans can do nothing to prevent your pious drowning since you are attached to shoreline bleak with safety, tied to precision, not the spirit of wild tide, willing only that your sand survives the wave intact, unchanged and blind with stillness. No. You cannot live at all.� The rain, it came from nowhere as you left, your sand retreating fast from ocean only to be soaked in sky you loathed and feared as much, for you would rather burn or turn to stone than face the flow and flood of me. I thought of you today, rain teasing me with liquid kiss on skin, �Perhaps,� I thought, �you will find a way to stay dreamless �� |
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| *image: Lee Bogle |