Poems

The dream

I remember a dream of a man sitting at the end of a pier.
He had a flaming halo with a single black spike in the front floating above his head.
I knew who he was before I reached him.
I didn't dare think about it or say it.
He never spoke a word to me.
Nights on end I would sit until I awoke.
Until dream he asked a question.
He asked who I was.
I didn't answer him because I didn't know.
I was me but I wasn't.
In the dream I was different.
I didn't know who I was.
The next dream he told me who he was.
The prince of darkness.
He told me he was the devil.
I told him that's not true but I knew it was.
He looked familiar and when it finally clicked.
I knew exactly who this man was and he wasn't just satan.
He was lucifer.
My lucifer.
But grown.
I finally figured out why I didn't know who I was.
Everything fell into place.
I didn't know because that wasn't me yet.
In the dream I was grown.
And I wasn't her yet.
I wouldn't be for a long while.
The last night I dreamt of him.
He kissed my forehead and took my hands.
He stepped off the pier into what I finally realized was fire.
I followed him and never dreamt of him again.