Blankets

My dreams

What good are they if they

are forgotten

by morning

Snuffed out by blankets of the sofest kind.

What good am I if I

forget myself

through mourning;

The weight of this new reality pulls down

the corners of my mouth, tugs on

my eyelids.

My dreams

What good are they if they

are forgotten

through mourning

Snuffed out by blankets of the sofest kind.