Tell Me No More of Enchanted Days

Beckoning your shape shifting, Rivers of cool, calm residues, That soar and fall, approach and retreat, On my burning fevers, My fires above, For everyone to see, Soothing once, Then the frigid turbulence, You come and go, come and go Your fingers, my veil My warmth, your luminescence, My face, your eyes, Your lips, my mouth... This night so perfect, For the ones who can't sleep, This night so torturous, This longing, this unattainable, Endless game of hide and seek.

Tonight, I dreamt of the time, I dreamt of snow. That night, I woke up, A little delirious from The hike uphill and the drink, The dark bathroom had no door, An open space at the bottom Of the wall, darkness outside. I closed my eyes, scared Open, close, peeping, Imagining snakes and blood soaked hands reaching For my feet; Disappointed That there wasn't anyone, Except some monkeys Clattering on the tin roof The water in the tap was as Cold as ice, almost good enough To numb, and then the shooting pins I remembered you saying, Don't ever touch hot water After this, they might never recover I lingered for a while, But I missed you. You were warm, asleep, Unaware of the dangers in the dark Unwarned about the open door That waited for you. I held your finger in mine And tried to sleep. That night I dreamt of snow, And woke up to you squealing, Look it's snowing! So, it was all going to happen, Just as I had dreamt it. Tonight, I d