when the man of your dreams becomes the man in your nightmares
Morpheus, the god of dreams, had a thousand siblings
and carried a horn and an ivory box full of sleep.
How many children that must be, how his mother
must have run through his nights
with each one in tow like stars.
If you crack open a beehive, pull it apart with your fingers,
it gives you the pain and then the honey,
or is it the honey and then the pain;
it’s hard to remember which.
If you throw a dog to the wolves,
it looks at its cousins with love
before being devoured.
Once, I found a ring inside a bird’s throat.
It choked to death on beauty.
Half of all the women I’ve loved are somehow drowning.
Half of those women are drowning
by their own design. The other half by men
who opened the ivory box
and filled it with darkness.
(via writingsforwinter)
21 08 18
