Inhale blue. A slow and steady breath, calm with a subversive anxiety provoking you to look over your shoulder. You are not caught, but you feel as if you have been. Objects duplicate around you, a misty blue light cascades around soft white edges; your senses are blurred. Rest your weary mind and let the slow rolling tide take you in. For a moment, you are a drifter. Let white washed cheeks and faded colors blur together, you are floating amongst silver clouds, disengaged from time, dreaming in white.
I dreamt in vintage grain last night that you met me in the field we use to run through together; loose, and nervous. Images flickered and flashed like a sticky film reel. You were a shadow, a muffled voice always behind me. I awoke with a sinking feeling I had lost something I knew I lost years ago. Feverish was my skin in this midnight hour as a lay alone, skin pulsing with a rhythm we should have shared till the end of our days. You are the ghost of my time, my waking dream and I can only pray that one day you hear me calling your name in the wind as it passes through the gaping space between us.