What I Want

What I want
Is normally simple
I move along the things
I thought I could want:
A pretty face, a room, an open book
And these things don't even bear my name.
Yet others now want things from me.
What I want do not even matter
What I want seems to appear in dreams
Wearing oblivious disguises.
Wanting now becomes a desire.
Holding out our arms
And in the mornings, arms ache.
I don't remember the dream
But the dream remembers me.
It is there all day
Under subtleties
The stars are there
Even in full sun