I had a dream I saw you.
You were the light passing through my window, reflecting on my journal.
I keep finding that light everywhere.
I do see you everywhere.
Light, light, light — that's you.

But the truth is:
There’s no journal.
I don’t keep logs
of who I love
and what I adore.

But I had a dream —
I saw you.

The journal is a metaphor for all the words I swallow
when I want to scream —
when you ask me anything and I’m not sure
what to say, except that I yearn for the light.

I want to keep finding you
deliberately, accidentally, intentionally, religiously.
I do. I do. I do.

On the strangest day, in the best way —
I do want you to pierce me,
as they say, in half hope
and half agony.

I had a dream...