5 August

I dreamt your name, last night asleep.
To hold it to such proximity, rid of
current stains –

I should have known, right then and there,
that it was only an illusion in such case.

But treasured still, and safe,
peaceful, and calm. No tears
travelled my face, no reason
to arm walls.

And if my name were to pass through your lips,
well, then, that’s no fault of mine.
Because I’ve dreamt your name, your face,
more times than I can blame or say.

And never once, since that dreadful day,
have you passed my lips, not once.
Afraid to break the lofted dream of what
you meant and still mean to me.