How does this dress become you? How has my world come to stillness in your eyes? What troubles you? Come now, don't surrender to it! For you and the moon, you know, I would go. I will not deck you out in flowers and colours. What are they beside your beauty? Isn't it enough that I cannot draw breath without you, that you are my passion, my love! And you won't darken with anger when I leave. Far away when I am, doing what must be done. Think that I'm beside you. That we remain together. And feel me as you do at night. The sky, the moment it settles in expectation, and kindles thousands of stars anew, how I rush to see you, to smile. And put on the enchanted dress. And wait for me at the threshold. In a trance. And with eyes alight with love, count to three. I'll be there. To kiss you. And let the world cease its turning once more!
# Mine, The Only One I had a dream where you were mine, the only one—not shared, not split, a whole world poured into one vessel, one name, one face, one voice calling me back from the edge of forgetting. In that dream, I didn't have to learn the grammar of sharing, didn't have to practice the smile that says *I'm happy for you* while something in me crumbles like old paper. You were mine the way the moon belongs to the night— no questions, no competing claims, just the simple mathematics of devotion: one heart, one answer. But I woke. And you were already leaving, already divided into pieces for hands I don't know, laughter I haven't earned, a life that moves on without me as if I were never the dream at all— just the dreamer, just the one who wakes. Now I know: nothing is mine. Not even the memory of that dream, which fades like breath on glass, leaving only the shape of absence, only the cold space where *mine* used to be.
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