Poetry: my brain’s core and a namesake

Scripted Daydreams

 

Eyelids left dusted by darkness,

weighed down by the echoes of dreams in my head-

she’d been writing a poem while I was asleep:

I ask her to read it back to me,

but I open my eyes and she’s gone.

 

Aching muscles want to stay cosy,

the peace of my heart wrapped in that other world-

I stretch out the ache but it’s still out of reach:

I untangle myself from the clouds,

something she never has to do.

 

Sunshine means her turn to rest,

while I am left forced to adjust to the light-

cold feet touch the ground and I wipe away dust:

my body tells my mind to wake up,

but it seems to be trapped somewhere else.

 

I feel like I’m out of my body,

I breathe, and I move but I’m sure it’s not me-

I try to feel present, but my mind looks for her:

I find her in daydreams, and we become one,

as the world around me disappears.

 

Together we write scripts,

as we live in this world full of laughter and light-

here I live with a smile and my dreams can be real:

she reads me the poem she wrote

and I find that my heart feels at home.

 

All is light, living here in my head-

body awake, but mind peacefully dreaming-

pretending to live in a world I create:

I am her now, no longer me,

but I keep writing new stories.

 

Scripted Daydreams, BM- 07/08/18

 

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