I dreamt you said
you were ready to tell them
while I floated
in and out of consciousness;
my hand on your sweat-doused tummy
still burning with your fire.

I dreamt you said
it didn't matter anymore what they thought
while you twisted further into my embrace.
My disoriented lips imprinted
promises on your back and I drew you
tighter, my body's—and my tired soul's—thank you.

I dreamt you said
they could see us here and you'd still smile
while the blue in your eyes snapped
the sepia-tone sunlight and the
curl in your hair reflected
the shape of your morning lips…

And then when I woke up I realized
you had said no such thing. But
you were still
breathing feathers in my arms,
and I did not have the heart to think
that anything else mattered.