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The crux of a dream is its reality

ah but only a mere dream
within
another shredding apparition

soft
as goose down on my seeking eyes
but like brittle bones jabbing
on my battered used up heart
aching like needle pricks in my skin
tearing it again and again
glorious….
but breaking…

in the solemn pitch of silence
I collect your Marlboro dust
falling from your gruff hues
like rain
surrounding my heart
in your rough heaven
for moments of sublime disarray
and bittersweet anguish…

to trace my fingers
down your naked spine….
know you are mine…

you dance through my chest
like a thousand footsteps
heavy on my arteries
and squeeze my aorta
to cut off my oxygen
you make me gasp out
in lust and sweetness
with your inflexible exterior
and soft fluid center….

I am not a martyr
but I might gladly die
a death or maybe two
to feel those stern lips
and what I know they can do

I am weak….

I can’t breathe….

get out of my heart…

but

still come to me….

a paradox that bruises my knees…

The crux of a dream is its reality

Christie  Moses

Joined July 2009

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