Lucid


The most painstaking part of
a reverie,
is not the possibility of an evanescent terror.
yet instead,
its vividness.
The blossom of incandescent emotion,
waited for an entire lifetime. 
Alas,
a radiant reality-
gusto of love;
where we lay
no longer abandoned,
forlorn,
tenderly unloved.
So impossible
that even in our evening illusions
we question its validity.
So we hold on tight,
to that fleeting flush.
From gleam to 
glimmer. 
Dusk til dawn.
The sole place in time
of the parallel mind
where we-
where I
may ever be loved.

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