tickled limbs
tensely tender atop fresh sheets
you stayed asleep, forehead gently pinched
in dream speak - i dive in.
the walls are smooth, they feel like stone but they aren't stone.
my fingers swipe the contours of the wall, which is really the floor, which is actually the ceiling, which feels like your face.
in stone-like solidity your features under my small fingers are everdom, pyramidic,
staying a little past awhile more.
when you startle, i wake; when you wake i am still
here.
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