I say I’m good with words,
but my words will never
be able to paint
the endless warmth
You bring
into my small heart.
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a little paper wish
i’m not sure if you were
the lighthouse
or me
but i know there was light –
and then there wasn’t.
a bit like birthday candles,
only darker –
but birthday candles,
we blow them for a reason.
a wish.
a purpose.
happy birthday.
i wish you’re happy, wherever you are.
dream terror
sometimes,
i talk to you
in my sleep –
it’s not alarming,
your presence is frequent
in my dreams,
and my subconscious longs
for your existence
it’s when i talk to you
when i’m awake,
that i am scared
the most –
and writing to you
does nothing
to dissolve
the terror.
#9
something is sitting on my chest this morning –
it won’t let me get up, and it makes my coffee hard to swallow –
i’m trying, but it’s heavy
and stuck above my stomach
it brings me foggy thoughts and
darkens my surroundings
is it the bedsheets? is it your ghost?
if i get rid of it, where does it go?
#8
sometimes when i wake up
i squeeze my eyes tightly,
and open them again –
as the truth of some dreams
is more violent
than the waking reality
#7
i’m running towards me –
i’m dysphoric
and impatient;
drawing my world
and colouring out of the lines.
it’s taking too long
and i haven’t learned to wait.
#6
my nightmares become thoughts
that hunt me through the day –
in my sleep i’m angry,
so people are angry at me
i’m sad,
so people are leaving;
i’m talking in my sleep
unfathomable words of choked whimpers
the world is destroyed,
and my world follows –
i cannot be free,
for my dreams are my reality.
