Three things are red-
My lips
The rose that you gave me tied on my wrist
And the passion between us as I
Brush you closer.
"You're a dream," I say-
"This will make it so very hard to wake up."
"I'm a dream," you say-
"I'm more real than anything you'll encounter when you wake up."
Black and white,
Like life.

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Beyond every shadow
Peel back the layers
And there you'll find, under
Crusts of dried dreams
A memory-
Slightly moldy-
A breaded thought left out
Of the fridge for far too long.
But cut off the hard parts
And you will find the fruit-
An image of us,
Making silly faces and laughing too hard
To take a picture.

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