do not fret however my dearest

The grave’s a fine and private place,
But none, I think, do there embrace.
“To His Coy Mistress,” Andrew Marvell

i told you everything in a dream
because dreams are where i tell all my lies

do not fret however my dearest

dreams are manufactured otherings
where lies are the most brilliant truths

we were together at some presentation
where the speaker’s microphone blared feedback

so you went to the stage in a white and navy dress
adjusting the microphones and sound system

all of this as dreams often are seemed quite natural
even though almost nothing of this was natural at all

except your ever-present legs bared by the dress

and then suddenly the dream transformed
into an episode of The Walking Dead with Negan

although i have watched only one with him
and stopped watching the series after that

i tell you this to prove a point i made above
in that part i was calm and everything seemed fine

just what are we to make of dreams then?
our minds unleashed from the demands of being awake

where everyone is watching everyone else
to catch those slivers of truth that undo us

each of us walking among the judgmental others
clutching baseball bats wrapped in barbed wire

o yes i love you achingly to the marrow
although that remains mostly silent and hidden

because the truth will set you free like a bashed skull
among those awake and watching every little thing

do not fret however my dearest

this is all we have and that is enough
because in the end this is all we have

—P.L. Thomas

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