I don’t know what to dream for, all those dreams I used to
dram are all used up, discarded tissues with the resident of a past I miss –
yet dare not relive.
The story always has an unhappy ending, at least, for me,
while I think she fares better, having survived for so long on her wits.
She may even thrive. I don’t dare check on her progress because
I still need to retain my cloak of invisibility, this thing that shields me,
yet also isolates me, so I can no longer feel what I once felt, touch what I
thought of as soft, the kiss I miss from a place that has ceased to exist, as if
I have also ceased to exist, this dream the only one I have and so cling to
that, even when I know it can never become
reality.
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