she was a careful girl, our tess

counting her sheep to sleep

the stars visible through her window,

and the seven people dear to her that she prayed for each night

but then she would fall into legend,

romantic notions and esoterica

and, in the morning, regather herself to her worldly self,

leaving her dreams behind

whereas i

i counted nothing

lived each day as if it were legend

drowning in romantic notions

holding myself up by esoterica alone