the first dream where you visited me

They look at you,

All of them staring with googly eyes; dozens of them

You'd think the moon had landed under their eyelids.

But you look at me, with the sun under yours,

You are meant to be teaching them,

They scan you like an app, mesmerized and stuck,

But you look at me. And your hands inch and inch and inch closer to mine,

They touch, and then they hold and you are gazing and I am the Sun.

I am feeling and knowing that something has just begun.

We're in a room where a projector plays your slides, and you're now solely teaching me.

And then these amorphous drawings on the wall become animated red butterflies that fly,

I explain to you that I know what they mean before you can even tell me,

We are getting into sentimental speech, and I can see you feel seen; that your heart could cry.

And I know something has just begun, that I am the Sun

to you.

And they're all stood there hooked,

on you.

Still.