remind me, again

[sundayschild]

and the miles that seperate us
taste like dust in my mouth
when i open  my lungs to breathe

open this chest of drawers
beside my head, and pull out
all the letters i never sent:
remind me, again why i never wrote
you with all the words i used
to sing myself to sleep?

my hands are full of glitter,
diamond sparkle in the light:
i crushed the coal of dreams embittered
with my bare hands until it was
nothing more than shine, golden
light and smiles white

slide my fingers over skin, warm
like a summer's day -- you taste
of laughter and smell like the sun
where your legs brush mine; where
our hands taNgle and our breath
mingles, and i dream on and
on and
on

sleep, and make note of all the wolves
that haunt your dreams, so i may name
them all, and hunt them down with the
knives i've made from all the bones i've dug
from the ground outside my home

sleep, and lock the doors so that i cannot
get in