Mourning Dreams


My dreams trace your laugh-lines

and sparkles part grey clouds between light lashes

Fingertips brush tensed lips to release breath

held within a chest hungry for my hands


My muscles clench at the rustle of my lonely sheets

Sticky with desire I cage behind my eyelids until


My pale lips twist ruefully, the fun teenage fantasies

disintegrating beneath the glaring dawn of another monday morning

My barefeet flinch as I trudge to pull on another pitstained tshirt

before beginning an another obligatory run

While the warmth fades from my soft sheets


No prequels yet. Why not write one?

« Write a prequel


No sequels yet. Why not write one?

Write a sequel »

Comments (1 so far!)

Robert Quick

Robert Quick

I can almost always empathize with your poems and this one is no different. Dreams can be so potent and vivid, an Oz to reality's Kansas. Always good to see more work by you.

  • #3850 Posted 2 years ago
  • 0
  • Published 2 years ago.
  • Story viewed 7 times and rated 0 times.

All stories on Ficlatté are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 License. What does this mean?