today i dreamt about candlelit dinners,
tiny fires that brighten up your neighbours' backyards,
opening them up so we can explore to the edge of the light.
in this day dream, we are sitting in a boat with wooden paddles,
and my arms feel so incredibly sore,
and of course, this is somehow still your backyard.
then the moon hides away in deep, black clouds,
above the grass, littered with fireflies.
then you remember the mug i made,
the one that holds lemonade
once fresh, seconds and minutes and hours ago.
the mug i made,
painted for you, gold like the sun,
watches us as you unwind my bones,
unwrap my skin,
cut me so deep i'll forget how to make a sound.
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