PASSWORD

by Carmina Masoliver

He types my name in for a password
but it isn’t long enough
so he uses seawater instead.

He tells me his fantasy
and the bed sheets turn to sand, the music
makes waves inside my mind
and I feel the warm glow of sunshine
on my body.

His words are salt:
the crystals sparkle in the air as he speaks
so real I can taste it.

He says to wait and see, as he
shovels snow of memories,
the morning still iced, frozen
cobwebs glitter
ready to melt away.

Featured image © Wired

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