I have memories of you we haven’t made yet.

They’re shaped like dreams

but feel too real.

The colors are different,

they’re intents

that change the way they look.

Layered like sand,

stacked like mountains

draining through my hand,

while I grasp endlessly

at a world that fades

before it’s even made.

I have a dream that I can remember

everything that’s different and better.