Once upon a nightmare.
lying by her side.
His hand was in hers,
from that green crocus.
The one they had shoved down their throats.
She thought she saw a butterfly,
stuck to the underside of his wrist.
It was orange.
His heart aches,
she’s losing her feathers.
Her wing is broken.
The sun tries to help,
the moon gets in the way.
They can’t be together.
She’s missing her crutches,
made of someone else’s collarbone.
There’s a ring on his finger.
He won’t sleep tonight,
all those blinding lights,
in his head.
The weather conspires against me.
Holding back tears,
she’s so proud of me.
Hands at the small of my spine,
telling me it will be fine.
I can feel your gales,
watching me sleep.
That’s what you’re afraid of.
You kept me as yours.
I wasn’t allowed to share.
I never learned.
Dreams are vain, vile creatures,
blind to everything that is not of their own making.
Strutting around, piled high with foolish nonsense and glittering promises.
But we love them anyway.
Orphaned from birth, they spend their lives searching for someone to nurture them.
We just so happen to be equipped for the job.
We ourselves are born with holes in our hearts and ghosts in our heads.
We as a species, are naturals at brave and blind perseverance.
So who is better to dream?
We don’t have much of a choice in the matter, it is what we were born to do.
We are also orphans, in a way.
Created out of sand,
so they say.
A grainy mannequin,
in the image of what we “should” be.
I’d rather just dream.
She peers through lenses to see the world,
she sees it through fire.
She believes in solutions and concentrations,
an owl amongst pigeons.
But she is kind.
She doesn’t believe in much,
only what she sees through the smoke.
Her vision is hazy, but she is keen.
She puts her faith in the smeared glass in front of her,
a broken pocket watch without a chain.
She renounced god a long time ago,
breathing through her nose and eating the fire that licked her face.
They collided once,
the flames and the monocle.
They destroyed each other.
Safe on a tightrope,
falling from a microscope.
Drowning in a pool of stars,
purchasing our pretty scars.
Writing things on the wall,
using honey and a tiny scrawl.
Forever fighting our mirrors,
slaying those ugly little flaws.
This is how we get our claws.
Like Narcissus of old,
trapped in front of a reflection bold.
Only she dislikes what she sees.
Humans make shadows with their hands,
a reflecting mirror from the badlands.
Ghosts do not miss a thing,
a watchful wedding ring.
River crash and burn,
dust inside an urn.
Cowards hide in the eyes of others,
a feeling he smothers.
forever filled with gaunt sighs.