Dry

He looks up
and sees
cracked white and plaster,
(but I see sky.)

Once,
when all I saw
was the ceiling
(and only dreamt of sky.)
I took love in my hand
getting nowhere,
stopped 
by cracked white and plaster.
Fell back 
to the beginning
in the middle
of the bed,
with my face to the wall.
Looked up and pushed 
the ceiling higher,
opened the window.

Now, no one bothers
with calling in love,
and I don't bother
looking at ceilings.
Trouble lies
in that no on else wants
sky.
White washed plaster
cracked and dry.