i don’t chase you in the waking hours because the night has already claimed you completely.

every time i surrender to sleep in exhaustion, you arrive without invitation, yet also perfectly on time.

i do not wish for you to come, i do not call for you from my memories, but it is just pure inevitability.

you step into the shifting rooms of my mind like you’ve always belonged there, like the architecture of my dreams was built around the shape of what kind of person you are.

i have counted them now:

one hundred three nights in a row where you were the only constant.

sometimes you speak, sometimes you only look at me

but i am not sad, because i know we will meet again soon.

in those hours, time folds. we are quite different.

we finish conversations we never started in daylight, speak in languages that are not real.

we touch without hesitation.

we exist in versions of ourselves that reality refused to allow.

so why would i I beg for scraps of you here,

in a waking world that only gives me doubts and false hopes?

i don’t need to reach for you when the sun is up.

you’re already waiting on the other side of my eyelids,

mine in a way this life never dared to make you.

i know that i am already wealthy beyond measure in the currency of dreams.

close my eyes, and the distance collapses.

good morning or good night, i’m home.