Last night I dreamt
you slept right on me.
You were in a hard sleep,
your breathing compressing
my heart, resuscitating
memories of your infancy,
memories that belong
not to me, but to some
other woman.
When I woke, I smiled
for the memory
that was not mine,
until the memory veil
became heavy, too heavy,
in fact, so I lay my head
down again.
I wish still for the dream
to return, that I could
sleep forever knowing
you were safe resting
near me, on me.
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