A dream, dormant for decades,
Returns all at once,
Triggered by a movie.
Words flow onto the page,
Every silly move forgotten.
Memories sting; actions remain.
Paths marred by ash and grit.
As after a brutal, icy blizzard,
A new scene forms
Beyond the arc of the rainbow,
Where we paused.
Our dreams went wrong,
And now we're filled with fear.
You're unchanged, but I'm not.
I'm a ghost of who I used to be,
A living dead.
You haven't changed.
It's a simple story about one man
Locked in marriage, loaded with spare time
We'll never see eye-to-eye.
Our paths are too different for us to meet.
Keep that in mind next time you hear about me.
About the Creator
Moon Desert
UK-based
BA in Cultural Studies
Crime Fiction: Love
Poetry: Friend
Psychology: Salvation
Where wild roses grow full of words...
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Thirty (one) and Neither Flirty nor Thriving.
I'm thirty-one and orbiting the same few mistakes like they're landmarks. London is already awake before I am (or before I've slept) - sirens somewhere far enough to ignore, buses sighing at stops, people moving with purpose I can't quite borrow. I lie there for a bit, tasting last night at the back of my throat, trying to remember if I meant to drink that much or if it just...happened again.
By Stacey Vella4 days ago in Psyche
Comments (1)
I cam relate to your prose. FABULOUS!