On black nights fat with dreams,
I wake in lucid spaces,
listen to the house crack and settle
while midnight traffic moans outside
like vagrant wraiths rushing
from past to future.
I used to walk with you
wrapped in my arms,
wailing bundle of promises.
Now I creak past your door
as you sleep wrapped
in solitary visions.
I was your sun,
now a distant star
washed faint by city lights.
I was rumbling thunder,
now a murmur
drowned by clamorous crowds.
When sky grays toward morning,
you will resurrect, arise.
I will fade into the photographs,
insubstantial as an afterthought.
But in quiet interludes,
let me haunt the corners of your mind,
linger behind consciousness
like the perfect words
hanging just beyond
the tip of your tongue.