Wake

I dream of you pale and thin, wrapping your arms around yourself. I reach to you and see your back turned towards me. I can not see your face, your eyes-covered. You use your hair as a veil, and I want to pull it back. Expose your skin to me, the sun; you say they both burn. I want your love to heal me as I want my love to heal you. But I see our pain just grows together in its garden tended by our fear. 
 I dream of your smile-agitated and quick to disolve. I stand there with both my hands outstretched. You are like waving water. I can't hear you from under...
 I wonder what it would be to wake finding you still in your life of sleep states. I wonder if I could caress your face or if I would finally truly be awake... You are asleep. You can not move forward into feeling. Your body is building its own cacoon to thread silk through. You are self sustaining and I am a twisted root reaching to the sky for its raining.
 You will not wake up. 
 I wonder when I will.