I had a dream
about the other
you,
the good one,
the one that loves
to hear me breathe
and asks me how my day
was.
I can’t help it, though,
to think
of the half-shadow
of the sometimes man,
of his arms wrapping
me up into himself
until everything stings
of midnight.
It’s the darkness
that comes calling,
that will devour us all,
but in the other side of
you,
the not so bright one,
I hold my breath
as if drowning
because it sometimes
feels like I am.
But when my eyes open,
that’s the best part of it
all.
To see the startburst surge
against black felt.
To desire utter nothingness
only to be introduced
to light.
Ericka Clay 
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