Hold my hand when we fall asleep.
Forget the world,
the far east.
Tell me I’m beautiful, for the first time.
Tell me you love me, despite the reality.
That you dream of me, more often than the rest.
How could you?
Do to her, what was done to me.
Brush it off with a steel-tonged comb through your long thick hair.
Unable to move, I stare at the wall.
I wake up.
Your hand still in mine.