Hours and hours,
two pools of green filled my sleep.
And I was falling,
falling fast and deep.
Made my knees weak;
legs jerking in fear— such abruptness.
Steady breaths, oh yes, I could breathe.
Yet I drowned, gasping in need.
A beautiful moment; a frightful experience.
As sudden and as slow as my chest's rise and fall.
It was you.
Every night, it was you.
A wish, and a distant fear;
my dream, my nightmare.
I woke up, and you weren't there.
'Desperately gasping for air,
for I drown in your pools of green still.
I woke up, and you weren't there...
But every morning, I hoped you were.
******
YOU ARE READING
Spilled Ink
PoetryA piece of soul in ink, and unto the paper it spilled. A collection of thoughts that rhyme from a wandering mind.
