with your waiting eyes,
that hold me steady and out of breath,
inviting me into their vastness.
and your patient way,
as though my darkest secrets,
were yours all along.
or your unassuming touch,
that seals my wounds at one point,
and yet opens me up at another.
did one of the Oneiroi whisper these things to you,
to make you so aware, of one so undeserving as i?
what dream did you rise on, old friend, to know my soul the way you do?