The Fragile Embrace
I saw you in my dreams again.
You arrived quietly,
like a bird resting on the edge of my solitude,
your presence soft enough
to make me believe the night was merciful.
I held you a little tighter this time,
my arms becoming the walls of a house
I wished you’d never leave.
I whispered words
that only dreams can hold—
promises too fragile for daylight.
I knew, even as I pressed you closer,
that you were slipping through my fingers,
a river running toward the sea.
I knew when I woke,
you would be gone.
You always are.
But I held you anyway,
the way the earth holds the rain
knowing it will evaporate.
The way a poet clings to a word
that won’t stay on the page.
And when morning came,
I woke to an empty room
filled with your echo.
Your absence was a shadow
that stretched across my bed,
a reminder that even in my dreams,
you are not mine to keep.
Still, I will close my eyes tonight,
and wait for you to return.
For even a fleeting touch in the dark
is enough to keep the heart alive,
enough to make the pain of waking
a price I am willing to pay.
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