I wake three times in a night having dreamt the night way thinking of you. Each dream my own personal nightmare of who you have been to me. No one ever said nightmares had to make us fearful of the future, but somehow I struggle to deal with a dream that questions my present. Until now I believed this was not possible. I wake and I call you, but there is no you on the other end of that phone; instead, it is hurt and fear who sits there ignoring my calls. I repeat this process for each nightmare but I choose not to call you. Maybe my energy is too low from the salt of my own tears or maybe the echo is too loud when one has a conversation alone, but with each dream and each moment of waking I keep wondering who is it that you talk to while you ignore me, who do you kiss when you have been afraid of my kiss? With those questions I believe myself searching and looking and wanting and hoping and begging for your love, but always someway or another I find myself poisoned by green from you. And your poison scares me because it is as green as the leaves in Eden: the purest hue we have never been able to see. It scares me so much that I forget my name means green.