It was in the moment between
dreaming and sleep,
and I still felt
his body heat
spreading
across my side.
In dreams his face
is more real, but reality
is far more kind-
this world, at least
is not so bold a lie.
RAGE.
It wasn't even one dream, either. It was one of those deals where I woke up, thought, "Well this sucks," went back to sleep, and had four more dreams with this co-star.
My subconcious hates me, I think.
I like writing poetry. Not all of it is going to be a historical epic or an ode to something. These are like little glimpses of the subway in my mind; my train of thought isn't always artsy or symbolic or deep or meaningful, but I like to think that art takes ordinary things and makes people see a sort of beauty in them. So, look around- I've been doing this for a while. Enjoy ♥
1 comment:
i hate when that happens.
and love the part "in dreams his face is more real."
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