In Your Lonely Dream
The dull glow of the lights
tries to penetrate the haze. You mingle.
Lost and bewildered. The soiree is abuzz
with voices. Gowns swish to the melody
of the thrumming musicians. You catch his eye
from across the grass. You yell out,
"Don't you know I love you?"
No sound is heard above the swelling
cadence. You run to him. Your legs
become trunks fashioned after the oaks
surrounding you. The haze thickens
into a dark fog that swirls; encircling and blinding.
The trees catch the motion of the notes
and begin to dance with the haze.
His words slice and hot tears flow.
"Remember that time?" he responds vaguely.
"It never happened."
You bring the blade close to your cheek
to cool, to kiss, to kill. You can't run.
You can't see. You can't speak.
But the voices chirp, the musicians thrum,
the gowns swish. The music doesn't swell
this time. It dies out as the lights fade
into the night. You walk away Old. Wise.
Alone.
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