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. ; )