snapshots of dreams.

i. despair.

i think my hope is trapped within the sun’s rays, and it falls out of reach, into unfamiliar hands.
despair is left to shadow my footsteps, following me home.
the door’s lock snicks shut, but sorrow still worms its way into my core, bringing up old memories.

my hope is stolen again.

[and with the disappearance of another second off the clock, we are pushed farther apart.]

iii. fear.

Can you hear the airplanes crashing; stars falling into black holes to be forgotten?
Soon, too, the rainbows will give up on us and disappear, never to be seen again.

I’m afraid the angels will one day scream, throw down their halos and stomp on them.
But now, time bombs start ticking, and I only fear one thing more than their explosions.

[It's the moments of silence I've been faced with since you said goodbye.]

v. hope.

I am dreaming of soft skies under which we could hum wordless lullabies;
of fog-filled minds saying nonsensical things that we would somehow understand, anyway.
Maybe we'd paint pictures of forever and eternity, even though everyone knows all things have to end.

Maybe some things don't have to last forever to leave marks.

vii. regret.

I am sheltered by remorse in this snow-less winter.

Maybe I should have lain outside with you a little longer in this ice-edged wind just to listen to your thoughts.
Maybe if I’d learned the first time around that our hands just. don’t. fit.

And what if I had never tried to paint you a perfect world, one meant only for us?

Maybe then I would not be alone.

I won’t whisper that maybe you should have just learned to stop running away.

ix. numb.

it’s time.
i wish you would understand; my hand is numb, now, from the weight of where-yours-used-to-be. i try to stand, but my fingers simply want to lay in the grass, alone.

it's long past time.
for my tears to fall, and my spine to curl out of this ball, and my lips to actually feel the touch of words again. i want to stop listening. i need to be again.
alive.

can't you see?

xi. acceptance.

i wish truth would've came easier to us both; that it didn't take wading through a muddy pile of lies to find.

i wish you would've held my hand longer than you did. but i always knew it wouldn't take long for you to get too far ahead for me to catch up.

but i've come to accept that you are gone now.
i've come to accept that we. never were.

[and you should, too.]


xiii. _____

I wonder if the remains – of our past, this present, my future; of me, and you, and the end of the world; of reality, truth, and other rough ideals; these emotions – are in hiding.

Did they slip from my embrace while I was busy dreaming, or did I just forget?

I can remember snippets. Snapshots. Some are missing; others faded. Yellowed, ripped photographs.

[I was under a rainbow, sobbing, and you were the rainbow; I was sobbing because I always knew you'd leave with the disappearance of the sun and the end of the ink drops staining my window.

I was staring at my reflection in a muddy puddle of water and you walked up behind me and said, ‘isn't she beautiful?’

You were pushing me on a swing, and I was laughing, freely.

You were smiling.]

Or were those only dreams?

Maybe in the future, dreams will become reality.