Dreams of Mourning

Tears dry on my pillow,
disappearing like the days.
Calendar pages bandage wounds,
but clock hands fail to heal.
I tumble through my memories
hunting for your face, your voice;
always around the corner,
never reached in time.

Sleep is my tormentor; her
shadows play hide-n-seek,
her whispers not quite heard.

She mocks my broken heart,
yet hope remains.

I will find you waiting–

between my dreams and wake.

 

Published in: on November 17, 2014 at 9:04 am  Comments (2)  
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