there's a curious kind of lucid dreaming
when everything he says turns into curlicues
that spiral themselves into halfway between
awake and asleep:
I have dreams while I'm talking to you.

rocking like a sailboat
twisting like a train,
it's an interesting case of nyctophobia,
that steals my ability to empty my mind
because it always whirrs
like an engine
when I'm trying to sleep
or thinking of you.

the night and the dark
and the stars that shine
are really quite good friends of mine,
for they keep me company when
I wish you were there
and glitter out their lullabies –
I sometimes wake up with my head on the windowsill.

but when I think about this place
that you make me happy to be,
there is always something,
lurking creeping stirring
and it spins around like a record,
flies like a paper plane,
and something inside me glows like a light,
because something you said, kept me up all night.

I've noticed, that when you pull me out of sleep, I have trouble letting go.
Of you, and the dreams that you're in.