Feverish

You woke up late at night

You were reading a book

I couldn’t go back to sleep, no nightmares

But I wanted you near me, as close as you like to be near me when you’re asleep/awake—-

I think about you and your family

And how you were left all alone,

I think about how you felt then, and why you couldn’t tell us where you came from.

And I know we are doing this all wrong,

And I know I argue and yell

And yet you are so patient

Calm and wise

I think of all the times you fell asleep on my shoulder or patted my hair to keep me relaxed,

All the times you needed me when you had the worst dreams ever, and I held you to my chest,

Because I knew how it felt to be young and afraid of your own shadow. What does your shadow say, Kedamono?

What does mine look like? Do I dare to say what my soul is crying out? Why do our shadows envelop and encroach and overlap in the moonlit night?

What are they telling us?

I look to you for peace and guidance

To lean on when I’m down,

I can tell you’re a bit feverish—

But, baby, I’m your

Scientist,

No longer a silly, immature clown.

I’ll figure out what made you blush

And made your face feel flushed

And hair stand up on end,

Because I got a bit of my lemon balm

On your lips,

And I can tell

It turns you to mush.

There must be a scientific reason

Why

I feel feverish too—

Why when our shadows intermix and

Overlay,

We’re two crazy feverish dreamers,

And my heart for you, is overflowing with passion

And seems to gush.