i get glimpses of poetry
little images
that flicker across
the inside of my eyelids
but by the time
i stop
to write them down
her face
has replaced
every fractal of thought

while i know
she doesn’t stop
to think of me
there is a brief moment
that stinks
of hope
reeks
of need
stabs
like loss

nothing else remains
of the softer thoughts
that once flourished
just that same
oscillating sense
that the most important
part of me
died
when she woke up
from this dream