sleepy dreamy afternoon

the quiet of the room, and the way your chest rose and fell, the silent proof you were alive.
the sweet summer nights, where all the world seemed like it was no longer spinning-
at least, if it was, it was slow enough I made sense of it.
your hair had spread from one side of the room to the other, a pair of glasses and another of goggles resting on a shelf.

you were dreaming, but you were not far. you kept an arm around my blooming-rose, thorn-woven ribs like you always had.
the skies and seas and spinning gears had lead me to you. they had never failed me.
a dreamy quiet afternoon, where the stars and all the eyes they held stayed invisible.
that does not mean they were not watching.

i had somehow forgotten all of this, for it did not seem significant. you were always there. always dreaming, but never far.
you were never far, and if i reached, you always would be waiting there.
it was comforting, to never be alone. the way your chest would rise and fall, the silent proof you were alive.
i wish you knew how far away you seem now.

but there will come a time i will run, through the forest and the wild, through the hellfires and dirt- through the seas and the sky
and the spinning gears that carried my broken wings to you. and on that day you will be there
at least i surely hope so, in that daring quartz-marble temple laced with the violet you swore to keep me from.
on that day, in the pungent scent of fog, you will be dreaming, but i know you will not be far.