I wrote a poem for you, or maybe it’s about you.
I dreamt of your voice
floating down the wire and sliding through my ear canal into reality.
Around your voice,
grew your smile, your lips moving in tandem with your words.
Brown eyes materialized and laughed
with the rhythm of the waves crashing on sand.
Dark skin twisted into arms, legs, and a chest
tense with muscle, rising with sweet, hot breath.
I reached for you, for the spiral inside your ear,
for the freckles on your torso, for the tattoo on your bicep.
But as my fingers grazed yours,
your hands turned to mist, tendrils whipping through the wind.
Knees evaporated, cheeks collided into dust,
lips stopped speaking, and eyes dissolved into ghosts.
I woke up screaming your name,
tears chasing the pain down my face.
I have you every night and lose you again
as the sun breaches the dark sky.
That’s it–another set of strung-together words for you.