A Dream

Writing about an idealized romance that may or may not have existed,


Only the ocean will ever know my secret passions.


(The pink tower of iridescence, undulating of cream warmth coolness, which once resided below my rib cage)


I’ll cry out to the vast nothingness, hoping for a response, but knowing there is not one who exists.


(My heart knows truth, my heart knows truth)


(Can it not be a beacon once more?)






Was it all a dream, my love?




(I hope to see you when I close my eyes).