raindrops fall on the table
like coffee stains on a marble countertop.
your cup has gone cold and you are there
staring at my fingers,
telling me how beautiful they are.
"tell me."
"I've been looking for pretty ways to
tell you I cannot love you."
"and?"
"and this is not a dream."
I open my eyes
and you disappear
leaving me again with
the cold winter wind.
it was a dream, after all
you loved me and this world,
and you left us both behind.
