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
