Sleep, Think, and Dream myself to you,
is what I do out of devotion.
Long lingers of school buses and
library books that took us and taught us "home".
A word which became more for meeting you,
and harder to remember for knowing you so well.
Yet I often slip from reality and indulge this
false definition, derived from the optimism
of a hopeful heartbeat.
Then I wander through the wonder years,
and cherished moments of selfless smiles
and obvious affection, poorly cloaked
by friendship and often revealed in a series
of glances, that taught me the reason
behind a prayer. Abating the sting of every
melancholy thought, and transforming the
diffident words of a silly boy, into beautiful
phrases of endearment,
offered to a woman from a man.
Thus, I dream of you as the virus and
the remedy, dark and bright that keeps
my mind balanced. Pondering a poison
by daylight, and recalling the cure by nightfall.
Drowning in your absence and breathing by
the sight of closed eyes, that grant me a reason
to inhale deeply and exhale slowly, during a held
moment of pure elation. Running from reality
until rest arrives, allowing me another chance
to sleepwalk my way back,
into the only dream I know.