In the night when it’s quiet

It’s a good job you couldn’t interrogate my dreams, but I can tell you now that they were all about you,
they were glued to the back of my eyes every night, every sight of you, smell and how I tasted you and you weren’t allowed to tell me to stop because in my dreams you were silent and pop went the light switch, the morning burst through and you couldn’t interrogate my dreams,
could you?

© 2015, John Smallshaw.