The hand that grazes my cheek stirs me from sleep,
Scented in earthy, flowery colors that taste like sunshine,
To wake and see her eyes, like liquid amber glistening,
And to take her frowning mouth into my own,
She tastes bittersweet, like marijuana and sadness,
But hungry for the opportunity to escape thought,
I swallow her poison, soothe the wolf of despair,
And am rewarded with a weak, distant smile,
Like the expression of the defeated conqueror,
Gazing for a final time at her snowy shore.
Then I wake up,
And wonder where her Alba is.
Discarded Recollections 