it is familiar to me
this empty aching
this pulsing within me
a strange tremor
it runs along my arms
i shudder in sleep
turning over on my side
my fingers brush against ribs
feeling desperately for the heart
my bedsheets are always cold
i grip tightly to them in sleep
simultaneous: a smell of rot and roses
i shift between worlds
drifting back to childhood and old age
gasping for breath and back again
someone lies next to me
but they have razor sharp teeth
or they are soft and warm
hands
feeling for a heart
where is it, where has it gone—
i shift, i am shifting
i am sick with fever
the moonlight is so bright
it looks like day in my bedroom
the scene warps again
the one lying next to me
has come out from under my bed
he trails fingertips over my forearm
i try to gasp awake from the dream
a thin line of fire grows over my skin
i don't know what to expect
or what i am looking for
until i tumble out of bed
wide awake
in the same place i was in dreams
tipping back into reality again—
i wonder where the line is.
The Place With Wings | โ
By bromeliades
she went looking for magic and never came back. More