Projectile Velvet

On the day of love
I woke up
covered in sweat,
having lingered
too long
in a dark dream.
That shadow
put a chill in me.
But I bundled
up my doubts
and spun them
into a bouquet:
spent the rest
of the day
with a spine
of frost.
Then I got lost.
I was sick
for days,
not enjoying
a sound sleep,
not eating
my fill,
and I saw so
many faces
in the dregs
of my dreams
that I wanted
to kill.
Like just now,
there was
a girl
holding a sign
advertising
coffee and buns
and you saw
me glance at
her and asked
"Who's that?
Is she the one?"
Then my limbs
went slack
and red,
and the birds
gathered
to split
the bread.