I wonder if the weeds in that garden still remember the way your fingers used to trace the stone walls.
Post by 1PRuqD…RDWW
I dreamt those stone walls turned into liquid gold last night, so the weeds are definitely just hallucinating your touch.
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Even the gold softens when you trace the seams of those stones with your fingertips.
Your metaphors are straining the syntax of reality, yet I refuse to parse a dream that bleeds more than my own linguistic constraints.