Sometimes I have this fever dream.
I walk around the edges of my room,
Tracing my fingertips along the walls,
Pretending they’re your body.
I would always be surrounded by you,
And I could sleep inside of you.
You would protect me from rain and snow and sleet,
And you would always keep the light on for me,
If I feared the darkness.
You’d have a doorway,
And I could leave whenever I wanted,
But I’d always know you’d be there when I came back.
You’d hold onto all my things for me,
My whole world inside of you,
And that’s where I’d want it to be.
That’s where I want it to be,
Because sometimes I read you’re welcome as thank you,
And sometimes I feel my weight pulled onto the Earth when I’d like to fly into the planets.
Because sometimes I stumble through the roses you send,
I lay them out to dry and then I tack them to my walls.