A recurring dream:
Pale walls above the sink. I'm a mess of paint and navy underwear. Piano keys flood the kitchen: "She's addicted to nicotine patches," I'm swimming in crystallized honey. Burying white walls with thick brushes, dripping buttercream yellow paint on my naked feet. Shh, be silent; daffodils are hibernating, the wilted are dozing. Staircases crack a weary smile, golden light reflects in your eyes. We're happy here. "6:58, are you sure where my spark is?" Scribbling amber dreams on ghostly walls. I miss feeling yellow. I really do.
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