it can be a random voice that is not so random
whose sounds, sweeter than sunlight,
are happier than it should be possible to be
simply because they are yours
they pull me into the time of dreams
reluctantly, unreluctantly
summoning the past into the present
with a wish for love solid and unreal
it is crazy, i know
yet compelling and irresistible
i create its memory with my desire
lost in silk and pastel
this world is complete and vortexial
it climbs into the back of my mind
like the forgotten seeds of light
rooting in the folds of my carelessness
if i give in i am lost
in bliss perhaps
or ignorance
sometimes i cannot tell which
if only a smooth lover's hand
entwined my own
with the touch of the real
or is it a dream?