An intersection in time

There is a door
through the forest of my sleep,
which leads me to the side of your world;
an intersection in time
cutting me from the thoughts that steal my nights
and taking me to a place
where I can plant those few happy memories
left in me.

Where the moon shines on our scars
and petals of our hearts bloom
like night jasmine spreading
the scent of billions wishes upon us
from the sky.

Where we are free from the war
within ourselves;
you are not a broken girl anymore,
and I am not the man hiding from the apologies.

A place where the ghost of nothing fades
into the light of absolute,
and I feel alive in between those empty spaces,
beautiful words of your poems
.
.
.
unless the thorns of routine start pricking
in my eyes
making me weak at run
on the canvas of my dreams,
forcing me to disappear by wearing
a fine mask of the reality
without leaving a good-bye on your lips