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…
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
your dreams shall
for all which is,