Come To Me - 12/7/21

They’re just like me, I think

or at least close enough as anyone will ever be, I think too

they came to me in sea dreams

of nightfull dawns

of dream hazes and sleep smoke

they came to me in pearl and umber, as a poet once said

They’re just like me, I think again

desperate this time, pleading for it to be true

They could be just like me, I amend to myself

They could be, they could be

they spoke of passion the way it should be, used breezy blue and pink words with traces of veined veils, the way my dreams are written

They could be

we could be the same

I might be able to speak of sex and death this time, without them twisting my words to draw out the very thing we speak of

They could be just like me

just like me but older, always older, even when I’ve burned for something else, they come to me older still

but I know better this time

Come to me, my painted Venus, my downy-armed, fair skinned ghost, my violet nymph with your honeyed halo that I know so well

Come to me

Let me blind you this time around