I dreamt about you, again.
I dreamt of pushing you
against the glass
in that hotel in Prague.
Of your breath and skin
fogging the window.
I dreamt of your stockings
around your throat,
your lips
gone bruise-purple.
I dreamt about holding you down,
in the bathtub,
until you put your hands under,
to show me you were finished.
I dreamt of the red lipstick
you liked to wear,
and the ring of it
you left around me.
I dreamt about tiger-striping your back
and ribs
and thighs
so that no matter what you did that night,
they would know
you were mine.
I dreamt of your tears.
When I woke,
the salt of you
was still on my tongue.
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