Dreams (poem)

My dreams were already so vivid

without your words

they were already perfectly coloured in

without the pristine tint 

of the crescent of your eyes


They already imprinted

the insides of my skull

formed negative images every time

I took a moment to blink

every time I took a moment to let my mind


but now it goes back-

to you


They were already so rich

without your savor

roving endlessly

carrying me and my thoughts

so far away that realms hold no meaning

and realms without you lost their taste


They were already so alive

without your every breath

leaving patches of warmth 

in my otherwise 

cold circumscribe


Already so real

without the crack of your crooked


-but just almost real-

otherwise sacrosanct smile

or your voice

so low

sending turbulence through the winds

and my veins

and my being

 when you tried to show me you cared

or your eyes

almost deceiving 

but only truly prepossessing as you

scrunched those corners

one gleam

two gleams

and lit-up 

as you tried to contain 

and explain

at once 

your passions

or your 

sideways glances 

when you wanted me to realise

something no one else should know

setting apart clouds 

and pushing away dust 

and sleet 

and snow

or the way

the air

i whiffed

was nothing but your essence


My dreams were already 

perfectly fine

before you

but then









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