I dreamt that insects swarmed the house and dug under your skin. They tore right through your satin blouse so eager to begin. Some gnat ejected mucus that melts skin like propanone. I feared your milk-white blood might stain our pink sheets pale as bone. I watched as angry pustules bubbled across your chest. Flies gathered in the vestibule all taking turns to rest. I swatted them ferociously and wailed my windpipe horse. I clawed and raved so violently, so heavy with remorse. But you just sat there, full of pride, Indifferent to the swarm. You said, “Don’t look so terrified; the fevers keep me warm.” But still, I heard the awful buzz And felt my body shake. And on it went until I was pulled mercifully awake. Since none can cause such deep distress but delusions of the mind, please do not let me sleep unless your hand is holding mine.
Beautiful!