you’re waking/walking, dreaming- eating cake
by the light coming in from the ceiling, pieces of you
fell from the sky or maybe they’re still floating
from mirror to mirror, your flowing pink dress
that’s caught in the clouds, this dark room
that couldn’t do us justice, but we refuse to leave it-
we’re still welcome here. we never died.
they never cried. no skin was shed, nothing bled.
our bones weren’t cotton ball snow, for the seasons we lived.
the dust that they breathe are remnants of us and
all that we see is all that’s fading; we were never here.
all this is make believe. we’re waking up again.