The thing is,

my nightmares aren't about huge spiders,

or falling off the top of really tall buildings.

They aren't about the monsters in the closet,

or the monsters in my head.

They aren't about ghosts,

or creepy clowns.

My nightmares are about you.
The way you killed me with your eyes.
I've never been the same.

The way you stabbed me in the back when I wasn't looking.
Red eyes,
love made me blind.
The way your words trapped, strangled, and suffocated me.

Sweet dreams.

The rose said to the sunflower "look at me I am better than you"

"The way my petals glisten
They're like luscious lips of a reddish hue"

"I have spiny thorns that keeps danger away"

"Here I am safe till the end of my days"

And on and on did the prickly bud boast and impose

Only to hear the sunflower reply
"Silly little rose"

"I need not for thorns or petals of red"

"Only my seeds are aligned perfectly instead"

"Here I am before you, Here I stand tall"

"Thorns I have not so I can be picked and kept by all"

“How is it ?” he cried. “How is it that she left me so easily?”

“She never left you.”

“She’s not here anymore!” His fist banged on the table. “I cannot see her, touch her, taste her, hear her, smell her!”

“You mean to say, that she is not of your world anymore. But that is not of her doing. She is not a unique thing. Her vision is a sculpture, her skin is silk, she tastes like strawberries, and sounds like a soft waterful. Her scent is a metaphor of life. If she is not of your world anymore, that is of your doing! If you could only open your eyes and see, my friend, it was not her that left you behind.”