Meena Muska's poem is about looking back at someone who once seemed like everything, and slowly understanding what that person really gave. The speaker begins unsure. The other person's blue eyes were either a mirage, something false that lured them in, or a sanctuary, a safe place. They can't decide.
Then a dream brings those eyes back. It feels tender: purple carnations brush the speaker's face, and the other person is careful not to press too hard, as if afraid of waking them before the "betrayal." The poem doesn't say what that betrayal was, but it admits it caused sadness. Now, with distance growing "across space & time," the speaker sees it differently. The betrayal has become a gift, because it showed them what lay beyond those eyes: "the real sky."
The mood is wistful and quiet, with a hesitant, ellipsis-trailing hope. Pain is still there, but so is a calm, hard-won clarity.