I dreamt of you again last night
Though this time it was weird;
You morphed into Gene Wilder,
Lying at the foot of the stairs
In the house where I birthed
Teenage angst,

Curled in a foetal position,
Your once ginger hair
Now grey and wired.
Sallow skin,
Shiny with tears.

Last week I dreamt
You had returned.
I met you at the station.
Hot rage and grief poured;
Filled the forecourt and
You took it.

You stood there;
In the flames and
Monsoons and
You saw it,
You felt it,
You took it.

I forget how brave you are sometimes.

Last night I dreamt of you again
And this was definitely
In a country house
With the highest ceilings,
I hung
Off the edge
Of a giant door
And in you walked,
In Donald Trump’s body.

I swung down to meet you,
Your tiny eyes,
Filled with sorrow
And emptiness.

A void which only
A mother’s love can fill,
But I have tried anyway.

I’ve thought of you
Most every day
Since we met;

1st August 2010
The first time.

Swallow leggings.

Nils Frahm.

I can not find a figure
To count the ghostings
In our 6.5yrs.

I think it kind of suits you really.

The mystery.

The silence.

Five months since
You walked
Out my door
With a promise
Of return.

I’m still thinking of you.

Sea Witch | Dysgwr Cymraeg | Essences • Readings • Water Magic www.elementalefflorescence.com

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