She infused your words with hers
as you did not say what she intended.
The words in the letter in the dream
swirled and slipped across the page.
You began to read like a film voiceover,
then her voice became stronger erasing
your words as she spoke your confession.
You knew she knew you knew she wrote
to you she thought; but was unsure
the letter, your letter, her words said
as much. If only she did not know
the letter, as her desire, was a dream;
and no amount of bland exposition
could explain away her obsessions.
(May 2, 2018)