Monday, 18 January 2010

The nights after*

I despise my empty bed
For it is forlorn and dry
It lacks the sound and feel
Of your breath on my skin
It lacks the warmth of your soul
Silently wrapped around me
Caressing me softly
Carrying me gently
On a trip to the lands of dreams

My bed is devoid of your words
Your nocturnal thoughts
And sighs
I sit in it for hours
Trying to catch the rhythm of a song
We once listened to
Trying to visualize you next to me
Pulling together
Threads of our common imagination
Stitching for me fragments of a story
Of a never ending spark
The flickers of which
Are too young to die

It is raining tonight
And the rain only feeds my imagination more
And I can actually see you next to me
Or is it that I sank into the eternal dream
Where imagination and reality
Are dressed in the same flesh?
I am hallucinating
And in my unworldly sleep
You are.

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