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  • Writer's pictureA.N. Tipton


of you

I’m dreaming of you. You know who you are, the one who leaves a scar. The one who pulls me in, blaming me for your sin.

I spend dark nights dreaming, dreams that won’t leave me be, as I claw myself up, barely getting free through your dark abyss, hands reaching towards light’s kiss.

Always. Dreaming.

Spun softly in your world, pieces of me fading like falling satin, into obscurity, emotions flatten. To grays and tans, void and dull, as thoughts louden, my heart’s resentful.

Are you dreaming of me with your wicked tongue? Your words were sung over the wounds down deep. I can’t even get away from you in my sleep.

Never. Waking.

Though my ears are wide open, all I see is your mesmerizing eyes, telling me your lovely lies, selling me your dreams, tearing me apart at the seams.

I admit, I willingly gave in, hoping against hope that you’d be real, riding the highs and lows of what you make me feel. Believing that you held me tightly in your grasp, Your dreams interweaving into nightmare’s relapse.

Currently. Sleepwalking.

Will I ever awaken from this never-ending affliction? As I make you my addiction, I need an intervention for my soul because without you I don’t feel whole.

Dreaming through this landscape Of soft kisses, and your colorful mosaic, floating high in the clouds, your deceptive trick. Drowning in melting rainbows of love and pain, I find the strength to turn my back on you again.

No Longer. Dreaming.

Previously published July 2021 on

© 2021 A.N. Tipton

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