Dreams used to be filled

with full magical moons

and fairy tale dreams

Dreams in vivid color

and every detail

a windswept cursive sigh

but now, the moon just sits there

and doesn’t say a thing

and in my chest where hope used to burn

a big burning hole

sits an empty cave

dust motes floating on the last

lingering moonbeams

and when one landed in my open eye

a memory long forgotten

fell back into my soul

and hooked me deep

scraping along the edges

opening fissures in the dark

could time stand still for just a minute

and let me catch my breath

and could I find the desire to believe

and see the magic in the world

again as I did once before

with innocence

with hope that dragons do exist

and I felt that I was special

hiding secrets inside the layers of the earth

folded and creased up and buried under mountains

where maybe this magic is sleeping and hiding

waiting for someone to believe again

fantasies coming true

and the good guys are the bad guys

stealing hearts and kisses in the dark

where dreams are filled with all things

trust and doubt and desire and everything

in between

but then I blinked and then memory faded away

and I forgot again how to dream

and the ghost of the dream was stained

to the walls of my mind

a picture left in the background

blurry and undefined.

the moon’s unrelenting silence

words got stuck in my throat

as time whirled out of control

and the last dream died

bone wind chimes echo and mock

in the dry and dusty hollow cave

where I’m tortured with nightmares

of when you were mine.






Author: doing2016

I started writing when I was very young. Then I was mortified on a bus full of people when one of my stories was read aloud. I lost my focus and quit. Now, I'm trying to find my voice and my ambition. I love to write, good or bad. So, I'm doing it here and now. Thank you.

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