Between the folds of fragile dreams
we attempt a union, a meeting at the words rough edges
I lunged into the mist desperate to connect
I felt a stone shift and grow dense in my heart
my arms were empty of you
This night as I creep towards sleep
I have a feeling of cracking stone
that divides into shards that glow with warmth
will I see you in emerald green
floating amongst the most beautiful of horses?
Inside a fine yarn has been woven
a music so tight it traps vibration in dynamos
turning backwards
causing a tenseness that spreads to fingers
that grip axes, spades, pens, and other hands
I make a pledge to always look inside first
to pluck at the yarn
On the border between magic and dream
my passport becomes a rosy amulet
that parts flesh from bone
the quick from the dead
I stood on the edge
knew you were calling out to me
I was afraid
forgive me
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