Held by a dream.

Dreams are not tangible
yet I grip my pen to recount
every detail, pleading for this
feeling to forever ground me.

I visit the bed twice more,
hoping to recreate you,
but colors have faded,
the edges already frayed.

There are no symbols to decode,
no motives to expose.
It's clear from the beginning.
I crave the intimacy of safety,
of honoring my vulnerability.

I crave the feeling of being known,
and knowing I won't be pushed away.