And I swore it was the last time,
that he invaded my dreams and not my bed.
And I swore,
that my desire would not drown me in a sea of tears and longing.
And I swore,
I would not dream of years to come,
if he was by my side.
And the glide of silk against my skin,
would not be his hair.
And I would not wake when the moon is high,
to shivers sent by his lips.
And I knew,
his image would float through my thought,
taunting me;
a dream I cannot catch.
CSHL- 1999
-Stanislaw Lem
