...

in early morning waking 

there is that fleeing dream.

it is almost lucid 

as I feel your body 

curled behind me...

the warmth of my back spoon,

gradually cooling.

.

my heart breaks 

under the weight 

of no expectation,

of never-will-be,

of truth.

how do I ever sing again?

.

I rise from sleep,

shower the hope away,

put on the pretense of the day.

"hello world.

it is me!

everything is going to be fine."

...