The Dreaming Me

Posted: June 19, 2013 in Poetry, Storytelling, Words, Writing
Tags: , , , ,

~I’m older this time…

Wiser than I was the last time I walked these narrow halls

 And roamed these careless rooms

Where nothing of my own surrounds me…

Again.

The ghost of the other me–the younger me–

The me who caught the dream by its wings and trapped it in a mason jar…

That me drifts down the corridors of this towering house

And presses tight against the walls,

Merging with the darkest shadows of the unkempt, lamp-lit den,

And unfolds only in those fleeting, fugitive moments

Just before the bloom of sunrise licks the tips of the mountains~

As if to remind me

Of the thousands of days gone by

Since I was still

And dreaming for the sake of dreaming.

Thousands of days.

My eyes crinkle when I smile now,

And silver’s deft and silent fingertips have found the cleft of my chin.

 I don’t remember when I last anticipated the morning,

Or smiled back at my past-tense self

As we passed on the stairs.

And inspiration comes hard these days…

I write ~

But it’s not about me anymore…

It’s about you now.

Maybe it always was.

But this is what I wanted.

Yesterday,

I dreamed my heart hollow.

Today,

I pushed the dream down without even enough affection or care

To check it for a pulse.

And tomorrow,

Maybe then I’ll wake up…

But tonight…

I don’t want to dream anymore.

~June 19th, 2013~

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Comments
  1. Linda L. Bennett says:

    Absolutely mind blowing! I felt as though I was actually in this poem and walking those halls. Jared if this what you come up with in the wee hours of the night, then I say stay up and write, write and write some more!!! 😀

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