your teeth and sleep

Last night I dreamed you called me, came after me under some friendly pretense, saw my face, waited until I turned, came up behind me, touched my shoulder, kissed the part of my cheek right by my mouth and part of the corner of my mouth and then you waited until I turned and kissed you back. With the rest of it.

The rest of the dream was just that. Kissing. It was so nice. I wish I knew how long my dreams last. But if I knew that, I might figure out how long death lasts, how long it takes to die...and I believe this information has been deliberately withheld from me.

For my own good.

And for my own good that I don't know how long we stood there, your arm across my back, my arms mashed into my chest and kissing. We were kissing. I felt like I could die by slipping away into your chest or feeding myself to your mouth. Both looked empty.

I want the time my dreams eat,
my time that is eaten by dreams.
Dreams with their mouths open
kissing my sleep with teeth.

I want the time my dreams eat,
my time that is eaten by dreams
to crawl between your teeth
and sleep.