Last Night

last night i dreamed i knew your name.

draped in sleep, you were there beside me— a welcome weight.

coaxing me back to you with warm whispers, butterfly wings against my eyelids.

your hushed honeyed words freckle over my cheeks— i think they’ll stay there this time.

i reach for you like a child. a mottled moth murmuring dreams of drinking the sun.

there are no stars, so i make your skin my sky and trace its constellations. 

you sink into my shoulder and smell of the season. sweet sweat of smoke and spice.

subtle and seductive, your tongue. a wine i’ve never tried, trickling from my lips.

carob curls splay across satin sheets— i like how they feel in my fingers.

a stifling stillness envelopes our embrace and every trembling breath sounds a symphony.

you gift it to me gentle. pressing it in my palm, crooning it in the cradle of my ear.

i taste it and take it and tenderly tuck it away, burning beneath you.

i walk in the earth of your eyes— grown like moss on a forest floor. 

cursed as Psyche, perhaps i am not meant to see.

i wake alone. the window is open— a storm shrieks through the shades. 

thunder booms and echoes empty in my bones. 

the hours slumber and slip away. 

as the bed grows cold, your name slips with them.