Monday, March 30, 2015

. . : : D A Y M A R E : : . .


I had been there
Where the butterfly fluttered its wing - then wondered, is this me?
Same place, different times, and last night, you
Lips in fogs but voice, crystal

Amidst the haze, what remains
is your imprint on today
All too sure, in only blurs
The morning's here, and replay, I replay

Even there, snarky and beckoning
The same way you'd push then pull like tides
How many moons have waxed and waned
Yet you awaken memories outside my dreams

Mon. 3.30.15



Emotions bleached white - yet through times like this, the stain proves it remains, however faintly.

2 comments:

  1. I feel like I relate to this poem so what made you think to write this

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    Replies
    1. I recently had a dream about someone I let go awhile back. I was so sure that I had no feelings left. The next morning I was puzzled by how my thoughts kept reminding me of him. Hence this poem.

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