Don’t ask me how the weather’s been, Or if I’ve seen the latest show. Skip the pleasantries and skin I want the soul, the depth below.

Talk to me of galaxies That drift like dreams in endless flight, Of stars that died to light our skies, Of why you lie awake at night.

Tell me what you’re running from, And what you ache to find instead. Speak of love that left too soon, And secrets buried in your head.

I don’t care for surface waves I want the storm, the flood, the fire. The chaos in your quiet gaze, The haunting hum of deep desire.

So bring your fears and broken truths, Your midnight thoughts, your silent screams. Drown the small talk, breathe in truth— And stitch the cosmos through your dreams.

…. M