Fear, Chaos, Crush

It was your birthday in my dream the other night. Sleepover in a strange room —I was left to sleep away again. “I have separation anxiety.” You said that. I said I love pure colors and you wear them and that’s not fair. I watched your phone intently while you taped the sunset waiting for lightning to strike in the frame. I stepped away from you to look at the real sky and then stepped back close and long as just-friendliness demarcates. You were asked about romance and your answer wasn’t me at all, unless this is a movie where all seems lost but all is only poor communication. It’s not one of those movies, it’s just a little death I’m watching. It’s sad but otherwise at worst the whole house would come down, and at best we would be unlikely to last. I’m sure of that as I lay in bed holding my stupid, helpless heart. I fall asleep only to fend off a tattoo artist trying to brand me with your name.