I live my life through the words I write
I cannot remember a more vivid dream
than the artistry
which played behind my eyes
as the morning sun slowly adorned my eyelids
and danced with me.
You danced with me.
You held me, listened to me,
and it felt so real
I could feel your skin on mine,
I could hear your voice, familiar.
It was as though you were waiting for me,
like you have been waiting for me
all this time,
more than I deserve.
Then, simultaneously
my eyes open and well with tears, to realize
it was all in my head.
Dreaming
of someone like you
but different,
someone who looks
but does not sound, like you.
How I would imagine
you would feel, taste,
smell,
feels real.
Almost as if
you wanted to see me
but under disguise.
Dreaming of the impossible
the never-happened, never-will-happen.
Dreaming of a past which does not belong to me
and may not belong to anyone.
The sights, sounds, conversations, feelings,
they are too real
to be imaginary.
They must be real.
I want them to be real.
Dawning Words 