Once more, I disrobe from the night;
shedding the solemn grey cloak of sleep
stepping on silken feet
into the cup of a freshly formed day;
But the dream-gauze -
this I keep devout upon my skin;
as you walk with me in the ungodly hours,
your pale hand at my shoulder
while I quiver through each fear-fantasy
that I write myself into each night;
Yet - you are just a memory-thought,
a gossamer motion moving away.
I will trade a thousand lightless deaths
for just one more gift of you rising through the dawn
burning hot with sinew, blood sharpening your veins;
So turn towards me, dreamed-of you
Let me see your face, once more;
So I may devour the pain, anew.