Last Book

I'm dreaming
in some storybook of
you
crossed with
I
fused with
you.

I know it's not real,
but I can't help it.

See,
I'm seeing
the shadows
out of your eyes, and

you're breathing
the smoke
through my lungs.

Your dreams
are my memories,

my memories
your forget.

The problem is

I don't know
where I stop
and you start,

and I can't tell
if I'm imagining you

or you're remembering
me.

The thing is

you whisper in my ear
and
the world ends

again.

New York - 12/27/05 - 12/5/10
-L