Love letter # 522
Last night, dreaming, I was in your arms. I felt the satin warmth of you. Your pressing solidity. This morning, awake, I wonder which is closer to truth. Conscious distance or REM embrace? When you return this afternoon, how shall I meet your eye? What, if anything, shall I see in your gaze? Do I pray that it will go away, or do I hope this sudden spark will catch?
I have never once missed you, now your absence is pregnant. Yesterday, you were background. Today, there is no other detail. It was a dream, wasn’t it? So, how come it now feels real?