Tonight I've had a dream. I dreamed that you weren't free to climb that tree up to the moon. I've had a nightmare. You stopped caring about colors, about feelings. Hundreds of ropes were constraining all your body, and you were worried about what we used to call social conventions. You weren't worried about the relationship between the sun and the clouds. You were just worried about having reputation, being accepted, having a nice-face girlfriend. Prisoner of what you had thought you'd never be. I looked at you and I've seen your eyes stopped being bright. I tried to shout and I've felt ridiculous. You just didn't want to fight for anything coz you thought you were perfect. Then there was a noisy truck. I don't know why you started running behind it.
I've woken up at the top of the tree. Your dreadlocks touched my skin and I've realised you were still next to me, looking at the moon. ✏
