a dreaded downslide to happiness
a perception of shadow
a tear in a no man's world
a loud cry in a busy crowd
a lonely journey to knowing who we are
Sadness
a longing for a past no longer present
a present with no future memory
a silenced spark of days to come
a reminder that we are still alive
a pain, with no visible sound
Sadness...
a "no" word, word.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Sunday, February 20, 2011
A Dream perhaps not...
Just another dream one would say, as I lay in bed wondering why after almost 25 years of being apart he still visits, and haunts my world.
He hasn’t aged in my dreams, his misdemeanors, his smiles or absence of smiles, bring a feeling of yearning and nostalgia. Like ocean waves, my dreams drop into my awakening world with objects that belong to the past with images of stories no longer there, now forgotten.
There he stands in my dreams with the other woman, passes me by as if I was not there, invisible, as if I had never been born. There I am, standing stuck with the feeling of the forgotten, the unloved, the unwanted.
No, this is not a dream. Dreams have a feel-good story, a dream is a plan for the future, a dream leaves a feeling of rest and content.
But then again, it is not a nightmare. A nightmare brings fear, terror, a struggle between life and death.
He is just a memory stuck in the fragile fabric of my brain, looking for room to express that unfinished past.
Like unininvited waves in the awakening hours, he visits again and again, leaving behind hidden emotions, memories on the sand.
There they lay,lost objects of those who travelled or touched its waters. The glass bottle,emptied out of promises of forever and ever more.
And every dream, as with every wave, gently uncovers the unwelcomed objects from the deep bue sea...
He hasn’t aged in my dreams, his misdemeanors, his smiles or absence of smiles, bring a feeling of yearning and nostalgia. Like ocean waves, my dreams drop into my awakening world with objects that belong to the past with images of stories no longer there, now forgotten.
There he stands in my dreams with the other woman, passes me by as if I was not there, invisible, as if I had never been born. There I am, standing stuck with the feeling of the forgotten, the unloved, the unwanted.
No, this is not a dream. Dreams have a feel-good story, a dream is a plan for the future, a dream leaves a feeling of rest and content.
But then again, it is not a nightmare. A nightmare brings fear, terror, a struggle between life and death.
He is just a memory stuck in the fragile fabric of my brain, looking for room to express that unfinished past.
Like unininvited waves in the awakening hours, he visits again and again, leaving behind hidden emotions, memories on the sand.
There they lay,lost objects of those who travelled or touched its waters. The glass bottle,emptied out of promises of forever and ever more.
And every dream, as with every wave, gently uncovers the unwelcomed objects from the deep bue sea...
Sunday, January 9, 2011
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