In my dreams,

There was always consent.

But truth be known,

My heart laid heavy feeling in-descent.

When I tell of my dreams,

One item is always hidden.

Listeners go astray,

Because they make assumptions.

My Lovers got aroused,

And my friends laughed and poked fun.

Can’t my dreams

Be kept sacred?

With no guilt to bare,

For hiding my secrets that drive me insane?

Or, are dreams really

Eyes into ones soul?

I only know that over my dreams,

I have no control.

Would true love turn most foul,

If I let my guard come down ,

And let my secret out?

IT was proven,

A blood test, ran twice.

A double check…

One for my pocketbook,

And the other to save face,

However neither one

Filled me with hope or solace,

Nor did I feel redeemed by Grace.  

In my body and my brain,


Them both bound,

Poised with venom,

Neither to be outdone.

Oh, My love,

How I would rather die...

Or To pluck this heinous thing out.

If EVER you felt

I violated you by the nature of my dreams.

But first, let me impart...

A note of import…

I have been stricken down by men,

Just as you have too.

Unfortunately, it hasn’t changed a thing.

Where not so far oft in my dreams,

I still find myself...


Making love to you.

Originally wrote:  March 8, 2003

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