Goldenrose

What if you were 

just 

a thought, 

an idea, 

a possibility, 

a thing floating 

with nowhere to 

Your God is not my God.  Stay with me now, I know this makes your hackles rise, your hands raised in the spiteful fear that you could be challenged. The fear of fraud.

every night i lie in Bed

and wonder what you Think about -

am i the Dream that’s in your head

or are you fast asleep?

Nighttime hits like a truck. Sleep is far from your grasp, and the skin under your eyes wilt.

There's a point you can't look for that means you wait; homework tucked away, lips chapped yet somehow unbleeding, socks on in bed the way you never have before.