Dreams To Come
When I awoke from my
dream,
tears trickled down my
cheeks,
and I realized things
weren’t as they seem.
Wrapped tightly,
twisted up in my sheets,
I closed my eyes and gave
my dream a wring,
squeezing out the images
that still floated above the pleats,
pulling them from the air
to which they clinged,
into the world in which
all life seats,
harnessing them in firm
walls, they ceased to sing,
reality organizes emotion
into fleets.
I always thought that our
love was where life peaked,
but I was only a dreaming,
like Coleridge and Keats.
There, on my pillow, I gained
control
when I realized our
love was just protocol.
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