pulled from the language of cranes

In the sweetest sway; in the blurry line between
the dreamscape and the disembodied reality,
you stirred me into the gentlest forgetting of
myself. You soften me, to the point of easily
dissolving in the December winds that precede
blizzards.

What does it say of me,
that even in an aubade,
I remain partial to disappearing.

I only feel whole in your company.
What does that say of you?
I dreamt of you again.
What does any of it mean?

For the surmounting questions,
there are only a few answers –

you.