Eggshells

I don't know who I am dreaming of anymore
but my dreams feel beautiful.

I need to put up curtains 

so that I can sleep.

The sun is too bright, 

however you see it.

You can't see the sun from my bedroom window,

hell you can't see anything but white walls.

There is a wall right next to it, 

one in front of it and a few surrounding it, 

Yet the sunlight shines through the vines climbing on the grill

and at it's peak, reflect off the wall and into my eyes.

What ever did I do to the architect of the house and the sun

that they push my sleep away through their schemes. 

Yet the lizard on my window grill 

appreciates their shenanigans.

It lazes in the light, 

the blood running warm

as I squint on my glowing screen 

to differentiate between we're and were.

We are in a room together.

Laughing under covers in the winter 

talking about drugs and dolphins

men shitting their pants while riding motorcycles

I tell you the story of the sailor who the sea was in love with

and how she fell out of love

into a cold and quiet sense

like a marriage that fell apart

I saw all of it unfold in a dream.

We were in a room together.

But now I can't stand the thought of it.

How can you face me again?

How can I face you without thinking twice

without the thought of slapping you crossing my mind

But I'll always tell you the story of how much the ocean loved the sailor

and how he watched the life in her, 

hoping he could have loved her more.

When all he got were the quiet still waves,

he wished to stir her up with his own hands-splashing in the water.

What is the touch of someone you loved 

against an ocean of cold depth. 

Life frozen in glaciers, 

waiting for the summer to come 

and bring her back life.