In my sleep I dreamt it was day. You had lines by your eyes just like when you are awake.
You spoke and they were presents for me,
words wrapped in paper, knotted and tied up with string
and I remembered then how to breathe happily.
A stranger to my eyes but I knew you so well then.
You held your chin high like the little boys who insist that they’re men.
And I suppose I’m playing along too
just a girl trying on her mother’s shoes.
Lipstick on that’s far too bright
makes more sense in the night
on a girl who danced her way out of remembering who
she would be in the morning.
Somewhere between awake and asleep we fell in love beside a landless sea.
It was a thought that was worth keeping so I buried it with me.
And I remember it was so pretty; the water darker than the sky. 
You kept praying to be vaulted in and I never asked you why
but I think I knew
and saw through you
and I couldn’t help but wonder : Since when did our complacence become so natural?
Baby, it’s in the way that you speak.
The contours of your mind were never so concrete
and I can see you’re trying more than usual to be something that is casual
but I can see your insides stirring and I think that it is true
that time may leave us jaded but I’m still so scared of you.