once again in my dreams,
i decided it was alright
to taste your lips
as you press me
against the kitchen tiles
while the rest of the world slept, unawares.
and so you came back to me last night, i imagined, from a place called lindaloma, a name that's always sounded like something you made up in your head to give your existence, existence. the entire floor was alseep and you led me to the kitchen, where just a slice of light reflected on the white tiles and pressed me against them, kissing me into a pain i have known in all our conversations but never really been able to express to you. i don't know what your kisses would taste like. i will never know. but in my dream last night, i knew that mouth was yours. and although i woke up with a holey stomach, i felt it was your way of forgiving me for being the whore i am inside, while i pretend to be a nun outside of me. i like to believe, you sealed what love we had in that kiss, even if it was only make believe.
i'm redeemed, even as the feel of the kiss makes my eyes run.
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