In my sorrowful dreams I
turned to you.
Between sleep and consciousness
your face appeared, your hands
soothed just like they did
long ago.
I kissed your cheek with the
salt of my tears and
you were there in my bones
on this lonesome moonless night,
wrapping me in memory and
comfort.
This gently tore at my heart. Aching and beautiful.
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Thanks, Mosk.
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