The past three nights
I dreamed you were crying.
You stained my doorstep with your tears on the first,
you lamented our fate by my hospital bed on the second,
and I led you and your lover to safety
from the storm of the century on the third
after assuring you that she would warm up
your cold feet, if only you'd ask her.
Still, I was not allowed to touch,
just like now.
I offer you my arms,
and when I think you'll accept them
I wake up wrapped around nothing,
longing to fall back asleep.
I have yet to determine whether these dreams mean
that you are in trouble
or that I am.
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Don't be afraid to ask.