I hug my pillow to fall asleep
In the warmth of a skin that scents
With the rhythmic rhapsody of what could be
Creation is violence, as they say
For with each tectonic shift, ridges lift higher - unattainable
And valleys drop deeper - undiscoverable
Yet from my droplets to his droplets, a river rages then swirls
And we're conquistadors in the New World
The City of Gold and the Fountain of Youth are ours, ours, oursI hug my pillow to fall asleep
To a gentle breeze painted
In broad strokes of mauve
No, maybe in a splatter of gray
Wisping around a precariously placed boulder
Overlooking a ravine with fingers and limbs
Outstretched and verdant
No, maybe twisted and sallow
Teetering
Teetering
I hug his pillow to fall asleep
