A pool of waking-potion
Corralled in my hands
Squeezed tightly
Not a drop slips out

A quick motion upwards
The tired skin awakes
to the reality of morning
once again

no more pirate ships and island crashes
no more made up stories under closed eye lashes

hold them there
covered eyes, light seeps through
fingers part the hair
pausing.
don’t want to look up
rather smash the mirror
crimson fills the cracks in the floor.
I lay beside the knotted door.