Ring out the false, ring in the true…
not a dream, a memory…
Dear Gentle Sir,
We met again in my dream last night. (It’s been some time.) Pressed tightly together, wrapped safely in your arms, we kissed. Your lips and tongue caressed mine with a passion so sweet I wanted to cry.
I realized long after waking, while walking with tender thots of you, that our dream-kiss was an echo, a memory of where we once were together: a first time of a certain kind that awakened a hunger in me I have yet to satisfy.
Beautiful man, sweetest of lovers, you make me sigh.
Dreaming Awake,
Lola xo
take, if you must…
… this little bag of dreams,
Unloose the cord, and they will wrap you round.
— William Butler Yeats —