It’s a dream, that I can tell. You whisper in my ear that it’s all going to be fine, my body shakes lightly, and my eyes crinkle open. Like an opening book, the pages of memories flutter past in my mind. I awaken everyday now dealing with it; the harsh and overbearing realization that it’s all gone, you’re gone, and arguably, I am too. I futilely wish for you everyday to revive me and bring me back to life when it was my responsibility to do the same for you. I’m bare and have stripped myself of me; I thought everyone wanted it that way. All that’s left are pages and pages of memories, your white shoes, my yellow sweater, and the stains you left living in my soul.
"Oceanward And Somber, Slumber Sleeping
Flowers in the Water,
But I’m Just His daughter"
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