by J. Morah

Created on: May 24, 2009

No title.

Words aren't worth a title for this grief.

A dream grew inside of me,

a dream with eyes and mouth and fingers

one that was supposed to make life perfect

A dream I could see in my mind's eye

Small, but growing steadily, a fledgling

forming thought

Two familiar faces merged into one

But then the stick said not.

I couldn't have kept the dream anyway,

moving on in half a year, always moving on,

no money no job no thing nothing.

A dream can't survive on nothing

But still, the dream grew inside me

despite what I'd been told.

I had it confirmed.

And, as the dream evolved, I was enlarged by it

I thrived, and so did my dream

Until the bleeding.

Blood without a cut, blood without a reason

without hope, without care,

it ripped my dream away from me

And the dream was no more.

Now, a cold emptiness, cold expression,

cold tears, a drowned sorrow

for a miscarried dream.

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