All But a Dream
How easily you return,
Within this mind's hindsight,
Never knowing how the swelling,
Gaping hole of your absence,
Weighs me down heavily,
With the confusion of your presence
In my dreams...
I crave substance,
Though well be my visions and tastes,
Vibrant...real be this cruel shape before me,
With voice like readying thunder,
And eyes plotting my defeat,
Ready to touch and redeem my soul
See how long control has fled from me,
As every fiber of my being convulses
With a grief none shall ever feel
And only hear of...
You can tell me to wake up,
To face reality,
To cope with the passionate eruption of these killer dreams...
But I will not hear you,
Or any being who dares to force me out of this trance--no,
I will not hear you
When the thunder claps
And my soul writhes against your grasp
You can scream at me,
Call me a fool with no substance,
You can shake me with the quaking ire
Of your controlled authority,
Though I will stay here,
Like unbreathable air
With monomaniac devotion
My future became threadbare then,
Lost in the desire of my eager grasp
The force of hot feelings flowing against ancient, chilled iceburgs
We once were untouched,
Ummovable,
Yet free
And once I tasted your fire,
Freedom has become all but a dream...
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2015
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