I dreamt of you last night,
but I don't quite remember
what it was.
(I usually don't)
You see I'm haunted by demons
that play scary games
in my sleep,
so long ago
I chose to forget.
Dreams like these
I want to remember,
wish to recall.
Can only remember your warmth
and the sweet smell
of your soul.
Your whispering breath in my ear
and your voice.
Your voice.

I dreamt of you last night,
but it was not one of those dreams.
It was beyond flesh
and beyond touch.
With you it's like that though.
Your sex is dangerous.
Violent.
Yet your so angelic
and sweet,
almost fairy-like.
It's enough to wake the dead,
and you have.
I don't know where I've spent
the last ten years
(dead I think)
but they were not with you.
I don't know why.

I dreamt of you last night,
but I was cold.
Cold enough not to let you know
that I was.
You see I have that common problem
where I don't speak my warmth,
and so I must write it.
sing it.
paint it.
Any way I can.

I dreamt of you last night,
and your name was "Milagro"
because you are.
I dreamt of you last night,
and a dark shade of blue.
I dreamt of you last night,
and you were near.
I dreamt of you last night,
and your calm pale white flesh.
I dreamt of you last night,
and I touched you.
I dreamt of you last night,
and now your here.
I dreamt of you last night,
and I remember.
I remember.