You The stealer of dreams, The thief of hope, And the merciless pilferer of truth Have stolen from Me Years upon countless years. Decades of minutes Stacked upon memories I never had with Someone who could have loved me back Someone who's mere touch had the electricity to arch my back Someone who arms could spread east to west beyond a cartographers dreams Someone who's love bursts and permeates through all the seams. You The stealer of dreams. Flying high on could haves and would haves and maybes Past lives and wrinkled times now synching Womb empty with grown child no longer a baby. Me. The fool who believed it all. The constant reassurance in slick talks under hushed acoustic walls And cheap mattress springs, wooed by promises Of mere possibilities. We could of had it all. You. The thief of hope. We could have redefined bliss. Etched it in Oxford dictionaries scribe in pencils, visualize and mime in Pictionary Become the envy of the town where gras