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  • Writer's pictureVeronica Taylor

For You, I Dream

I dreamed of you,

again.

Lying atop poorly stitched

pillows and thin tusk sheets,

disillusioned desires comb through my

coils and slither their way under

my bed.

They make themselves at home with

lost socks, crumbs, and candy wrappers.

A family of the unfounded.

I fret for these lost things and

I look where I feel is

Everywhere.

But

I give up

in hopes that what I cherish is

replaceable.

Secretly,

I hope that if I don’t find them

they’ll at least

find their way back

to me.


I laughed for you,

Again.

You make my chuckles turn into

sounds that tumble mountains.

Sweetly,

I gaze upon you,

enchanted by your essence.

You’ve become my muse.

A Thalia and Calliope,

gracing the earth.

I follow you,

hopelessly

praying whatever I can give

is enough for you to take.


I’m mad at you,

Again.

I don’t understand why

I can’t have your love.

You remain to me

Unattainable.

We are

Fire.

Glowing embers burn and

we chase each other around the

ruby flames.

I grow tired of our game.

And you do, too.

You breathe more oxygen for us to

ignite and dance,

but I choose to

remain

unkindled.


I cry for you,

Again.

I trace my steps,

looking for the vision I once had

of us.

Knowing somewhere,

it is near me and with the slightest reach,

you will be in my grasp.

I finally have the sense

to pull back my sheets,

empty my closets,

and check under my bed.

You are there.

At least the dream of you is.

I hold these fragments of memories like

Dead bone.

Wishing I had found you sooner.

Maybe hope would have remained alive.


I miss you,

Again.

But sadly,

all is lost.

And all I have now

is a dream.

I dream of you,

again and again and again

And again.



Edited by: Cecilia Innis


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