as images of you race through my dreams.
I reach out a shaky hand, trying to pull you closer—
but you fade into a wisp of smoke.
Your outline lingers
like heat above desert sand,
distorting the shape of something
that was never fully there.
My fingers close on nothing.
Only the ghost of warmth remains,
a phantom pulse
where your heartbeat should be.
The room tilts softly in the dark,
perfume of sleep and longing
thick in the air—
and somewhere between dreaming and waking
I swear I hear you breathe.
But when I turn toward the sound
the night exhales slowly…
and you dissolve again
into the quiet
~S~
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