I often speak to you as if you are my future, my life, my hopes, my truths… my escape… my reality.

Yet as of late, the nights have turned restless, fever rushes and sweat drowns my peace

As of late, the visions which fall bring not rest

As of late, the nights which gather make my eyes heavy with longing of nights which have passed

As of late, I sit in the corner and wait for dawn. Awake. Alone.

I have spoken to you so often, yet tonight I address you, directly, and ask of you to return to me.

Do not begrudge me my mistakes, for I may have taken for granted, but I have never forsaken my peace.

Please return to me

my future, my life, my hopes, my truths… my escape… my reality…

my dreams

I remember nights when I would smile and await the next adventure,

the reality of  life faded and  accompanied the shadows to rest.

The replaced image was one of silence and experience

This new uncertainty became truth… I remember the nights.

I remember the mornings when I would smile and try to capture every detail,

relive the fantasy, find that which I believed in, feel the freedom of all I owned… be that which knows no bounds… almost discovering the reflection in the mirror is all but a mirage… it is the real you

the fragrances of life, the tastes of air, the sights and sounds… all aware… all in there… it is the truth… I remember the mornings when my mind would comfort my soul

one day,

one day

your dreams shall

be real,

for all which is,

is all

In dreams