Did you
become real
on
a day of double Percocets,
when
every slip into gentle sleep
brought
you back to me?
God
help me if I’m
just
building another disaster
because,
if and when this one crumbles,
there
may be nothing left
Something
must be precious
enough
to actually exist in
the
way that one would dream it –
something
real enough to survive
As
precious as that dream,
the
one that
no
one could ever steal away.
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