he dreams my dreams

it is a memory living within me
with permanence
the dangling smell of white, musky passion
clinging to the curve of his neck
the sharp of his collarbone beneath my cheeks
as i drift
into a sky of peace that reside
deep in his eyes
i venture into his soul
and find mine
complete and alive with
a thousand dreams that communicate to
the fall of his eyelashes as he
sleeps. a sound of a thousand angels
soaring towards the shine of summer

when i will quiver with a certain
sense of misdirection
i can breathe him in
from the air around me
knowing he is here
and though we are divided
through skylines of a thousand lives
he is always there watching the moon
shining down on him
knowing it is also
shining down on me

1 comment:

  1. :) How simple it seems.
    I, for one, have always been a fan of your poems, my dear one.

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