A Nightmare

The blue in your eyes is gone and only

the grey remains. Flecked with black ash they burn

like a poisoned flame. For your voice I yearn

to hear. Those words you once spoke so softly

are now chunks of barbed wire in your coarse mouth.

I reach out to touch your hand but it breaks

into porcelain shards. My tiny hand shakes

as the blood—scarlet—rains down upon the couch.


The clock bellows in the hallway. I wake

and see only darkness. You are not there

when I turn around. The white sheets are bare.

I slink into the office, scared, hoping

you have not left. And there you are, sleeping.

I sigh, relieved. Nightmares; the scenes they fake.

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