Deadlines

a soft whisper
in the line of my neck.

“i'm still a dream,”
you said, even though you weren't.

you took shape
in the cusp of my arms
in the womb of my heart
in the drop of my mouth.

i longed to answer you,
to let our words collapse
upon each other,
to let you hear
our inhibitions falter.

i wanted to believe you,
and i tried to,
hard as i could.

and when your smile
found mine,
i said,
“sometimes,
i'm glad i don't wake up.”