Picassoed Dreams
You cried clumsy paraphrase
for my privy tears—
streaked inside to mask their shame.
You kissed them dry
with words refracted
from dreams we dreamt apart
—Picassoed dreams—
dreams you begged we merge as one.
Separate, the fragments wither.
And so, resurrection.
What choice was there?
For the beauty of the whole
is in the sum of its parts.
