If dreams merit me
the sound of your kisses
would it to ask a plead so wee
to spend the night with you sleepless
as in dreams I am fooled
moonstruck by the warmness
of your hands when the sun refused
but in fact is a nightmare guised as
a dream harmless
YOU ARE READING
Albeit flawed,
PoetryI was basking under the sun-the waves muffle the sound of my breathing; and I bury myself with cautionary confidence in the sand and with it the memory of your four faces. How can something lethal be life-restorative?
