oh god, how easy it is to forget yourself.

in another fantasy, i was alone,
high in the mountains, barely breathing in and out,
chasing some ethereal unknown.
there, i was trying to discard my shadow,
leave it somewhere in the snow,
capped in white, forever gold.
and as the last of those ragged breaths came,
i woke to find only a dream.

to think: one day, i will escape myself.

here and there in pieces, scattered wide across the ground,
leaves touched smoothly by the sunlight,
ashes, smoke and fire made the crowns
of our forgotten kingdoms.
by then the world was once again so dark,
a change after the constant blinding lights of cities;
somewhere the noise of our pollution gave way to
simple silence.

and it was so blissfully empty.

then, i found you among the stars,
like in those old stories our dad's used to tell;
"yes, i would have gotten the moon, if she'd asked."
but it was different, so far beyond comfort
that i almost managed to forget myself again,
to pretend that you were some resurrection of those
nubile desert girls.
but it was the ghost of your body, the ghost of your arms,
clasped so tightly around me that i found.
every touch more real than the other thousand times around.

nothing ever comes without its complications,
like riddles without reason, and dancing in the dark.
but if there is a god, he would forgive me
for giving in to what i found,
every touch more real than the other thousand times around.