He takes my hand. His rough skin warms my palm as he pulls me toward him, my bare feet sweeping lightly over the grass. His arms wrap around my waist and my hands set upon his shoulders.
This is a dream. I know it is, don’t I? I will wake up, but first I will dance.
The moon wraps us in light, soft as silk. He smiles and I smile back. He asks me why I’m crying, and I do not answer. We continue to move, embracing each other in the hopes that we’ll come together; we’ll become one and we will no longer worry. We’ll dance all the way up to the stars, the ones that burn bright blue above us. We merely dance, instead. Hopeful to the point of bursting.
I love you. It is not said by either of us, but it is. Not by our mouths; our breath, but by everything. Everything surrounds us, and it all whispers softly into our ears. I love you.
I twirl across the land in his arms, my snowy dress billowing around my legs, stretching out to the horizon. It fades into the color of night. He looks at me and I look at him, encased in the gown I had worn to his burial.
This is a dream. I know it is, don’t I?
He pulls away and I cling. No. Please don’t-
But this is a dream, of course. And so I wake.
YOU ARE READING
Truth
PoetryA miscellany of things and other things that may or may not be of the sort.
