Gray Dream

I never was there —
you minutely
construct the clockworks,
set to rounding.

You dream me reckless —
backed to a corner,
one hand raised,
what for.

Such a long sleep —
why do you
wait so?
Light.

Together is alone —
no one else
can know,
what’s real?

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About Emily

I may or may not have: A. Dirt B. Ink C. Paint D. Wool under my fingernails.

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