Mercutio Does Not Lie

The light slips through the cracks of the door
And the dreamer lies.

Misty water shivers through my fingers.
I find diamonds and pearls.

I gather them and somehow they form a ring--
Shimmering on that left hand.

Dreamers lie in the dark.
The fan whirs and trestles the hairs across my ears.

Green apples bunched on tree limbs.
Silver beams with copper crowns.

I wander through their labyrinth.
A ghost of mist but with hands of crow and claw

Watching from the hollows.
Dim but his eyes clear and piercing.

Sweat beads at the nape of the neck.
Eyes wide. Hair sticks. Hands in fists and holding folds.

I can't speak. The names I want to shout don't come.
And it doesn't matter as his blue eyes twinkle.

I know there's no one who can hear me now.
So my own fingers dig into the softness of his throat.

Jab into the hardness of juggler
and his pallor pales. But he only smiles.

All is hopeless and he shall take it all.
Thoughts forming patterns

But scattering before
the pieces are all found.

The gray of morning shows through the blinds.
Pushing color back back to beyond.

Bewildered dreamers lie.