I am not dreaming.
This road is real
and I am real
and youare real.
You lean so smooth against
the air around youbut your hands are shaking
and you look away.
I am not dreaming.
The breeze is ruffling your hair
the way I used to do.
Your jaw is tight and I
can hear crunching gravel.
This road is real and I am
real and you
are real
and you are coming for me.
I am not dreaming.
We are here;
you are back with me.
The sun is just another star,
we're speckled in golden dust.
Fallen leaves,
October leaves,
these skeletons rattling
at your feet --they are real.
And you see me.
Those-those are real,
glass marbles,
the prize pick of a child's game,
circles drawn in bronze skin,
pools of blue marble
seeing me.
I am not dreaming.
Dreams are never this sweet.
Humid summer carries
caramel voices to me.
Your sounds, your laughs, your sighs
and I am not dreaming.
Dreams couldn't be this cruel.
Dreams couldn't torture me with
those eyes.
We are in panhandle desert.
You are real,
I am real,
the wind that whips our clothes
about our skinis real.
I taste dirt in my teeth
and the reverberations of a heart
who hasn't beat in so long.
I am not dreaming.
My hands are shaking too.
Look, mine are shaking too.
Look, look.
These hands ate real, feel them!
I am not dreaming!
I am staring.
I am hardly breathing.
I am clinging to you.
I will not wake this time.
God, leave me here
this time.
God, please leave me be
here.
