to keep a memory
that feels real.
soon all that will remain
are my dreams,
and how we never met
in between.
i had another dream
you were selling your house. i for some reason showed up. it was a beautiful mashup of the houses that i have lived in, or that don't exist. the wooden floors creaked lightly under our feet. you had big lamps all over the place. you were glad i was there and hugged me - i couldn't know if i should return the embrace. but i did. for a second it felt real: your flesh, the fabric of your clothes. you were glad i was there.
i woke up and you were gone.
4 jan
there's nothing here.
on the carpet your steps will hollow out.
the coffee machine whirrs and cleans itself alone.
you can't clean and you can't let down.
nothing here.