Poetry

The Pride Before, 8 (221.)

Dreams
The places I cannot go
Some places I may have been
The way is shut, now,
And I
Am hopelessly lost

Scenes
Some places I’d rather not go
Horrors too frightening for real life
Stalking the corridors in my mind
A vocalization in sleep,
Fitful, restless,
Swimming deep in sub-subconscious
I know not what to call this
Abyss

Hopes
Statements I probably will not make
Is this what real conversation sounds like?
I try phrases out in my head,
And you
Kiss me with crinkled eyes
Too bad these are only hopes,
For in the abyss,
Scenes remain
Dreams

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