Dream renders silhouette of a faceless embrace.
Kiss rushes blood like an uitwaaien towards horizon’s fiery heat.
Presence presents itself as facultative for a moment—a fleeting one if that.
Day melts into night as a singular shadow emerges from last light.
Could either he or she be a quisling to a bed’s darling?
Or, do amendsful acts of the terrene space resolve themselves amid swevens.
Heart’s desire dissolves at morning’s mourning, a blink that never happened.
Turning to the other side, there lies the reason to both set and rise. ; )