I often ask others what they dream

about.

not what thy dream for,

or who they dream of.

for whom they long for and what

they pine for

are merely distractions. Like

cloudy skies covering the sun,

or rather, the warmth.

i often ask others what they dream

about.

in hopes to hear my secret thoughts

coming from a strangers heart.

for who he is

and who I am seems the same,

or rather, it fades