I dream

of you

In a restless sleep.

I  d
       r
          i
            f
               t

away into nothingness,

and dream of what could have been.

The words I write mean something to some people, and nothing to others.

But it isn’t what people hear from my words that matter, or how people see me because of them, but what those words mean to me.

Eyes in the dark stare at me, they pretend not to look when I notice them.

What scares me more, the fact that I do not know who the eyes belong to, or why they look at me with such intense hate?

I won’t be sleeping tonight, as I fear I will never wake the morning to come.

The eyes in the dark stare at me, and I pray they remain as such.

A singular feather falls from the heavens,
landing on my head.

How lucky am I to have witnessed such an event,
Blessed by the finest feather of an angels wings.

I often dream of porcelain skies,
It’s smooth and fragile surfaces enticing me to thoughts of better times.

With a glass hammer I break the sky,
And, as the hammer breaks in my hand and tears at my flesh, I dye the porcelain a deep crimson red.