Thoughts of a dying dream

I was born with you, the day of your birth,

in your awakening

Out of those moments of joy bursting with light.

I stood by you, through years of your longing,

in your flagellation

Through those moments of pain echoing with the truth.

 

We have always been one, though you split us in two

Denied me, seeking fulfilment from others besides me.

Embarrassed, you walked away

I saw you look back eyes dark with regret.

You had no sense to know you could never forget.

 

Once in your mid-life, I sent you flowers, a fragrant bouquet

Hoping to remind you of what we had, and all the missed hours.

You read the note, threw it in the bin

Hid in the bedroom and found you could not hide from what was within.

That night, in the yellow of the porch light, you looked up at the stars

wondering, always wondering.

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And here we are, together still at the end of your life.

Yes I’m still here, beside you, within you

And I bloom in your chest, with a lot of regret.

You tell me you’re sorry, you don’t know what happened

I say nothing, just let you speak, hear your voice cracking.

 

The pain in your voice is much for me to bear.

I know I tried to tell you over the years

that for you to truly live, both of us need to have life.

 

But I will die with you, the world never knowing who I am

More tragic than this, is the self you hid from the world.

All I could do was show myself to you

Hoping you would find your courage.

Something you could never do.

 

Oh the life we could have lived!

The possibilities we could have explored!

 

It is harder for me still, to question my own existence

The dream that never could and never will,

be more than a thought in your head

A fledgling hope that never took flight.

Why was I here? It makes no sense.

 

Then I look in your eyes,

moments before the light in them goes out,

and I see the same questions stirring about.

 

****

Inspired by an article I read on the regrets of the dying. Unfulfilled dreams were one of the biggest regrets.

There is something about unfulfilled dreams, hopes and desires that cause us so much pain. Most of it seems to go against logic and reason and it takes courage to follow them.

Undeniably, dreams are a part of who we are. To fulfil them is to fulfil ourselves. To give them life, is to give us a life that feels authentic, and has a buzz to it that makes us feel very much alive.

Need a better title. It is a WIP. Suggestions welcome!

Here’s to your dreams 🙂

 

 

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Desert dawn

PHOTO PROMPT © Jan Wayne Fields

“C’mon! It will be worth it.”

“This was a bad idea, Dawn.”

“Oh stop your moaning. Just a few more steps.”

Robert screwed up his eyes against the morning sun, “It’s at least half a kilometre up! You’re going to kill me.”

Dawn trod easily over the rocks. Behind her, he watched the muscles flex in her calves.

At the top of the hill they looked out across the spreading desert glowing a pinkish-orange from the rising sun.

“What did I tell you? Isn’t it beautiful?”

Watching her face, his breath caught by the wind, he whispered, “It sure is.”

100 words

Written for Friday Ficitioneers where the challenge is to write a story in 100 words or less, hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Click the blue frog to read more flash fiction.

Thanks to Jan Wayne Fields for providing this week’s prompt.

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Bonfire

Playing around with a song idea. It’s half done, and the idea is mostly there. But just wanted to hit that publish button and put something out there.

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I set myself on fire to keep you warm

You say that you love me

but you can’t see me burn

 

Bonfire on the beach beneath a sky full of stars

And I could do it all night babe, for your smile

It’s just that through the smoke, the stars dim for me

So I begin to wonder about Life’s possibilities

 

Chorus

Love that invites to another world

where fires burn to light the way

and when i arrive it feels like coming home,

Coming home to stay

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fine lines of the heart

PHOTO PROMPT © Marie Gail Stratford

 

Zahra leaned towards the mirror, dabbing eye cream around her eyes hoping to see those dreaded fine lines vanish. She turned her face in the dim light, trying to catch a glimpse of the smooth-faced beauty that once won her pageant titles.

Her husband appeared behind her reflection. “Still as beautiful as ever!”

She smiled softly. She never noticed just how grey his hair had become. Were those wrinkles on his face from years of laughter, or from sadness? Guilt pinched her heart.

She took his face in her hands and planted a kiss on his eager lips.

98 words

The image made me think of a flower that has lost its bloom, and that led to thoughts of ageing beauties. Zahra, in arabic, means flower.

This story was in part inspired by a poem I once read about an ageing couple, (the title and poet eludes me, sorry). The husband looked at the lines on his wife’s face and found beauty in them, because they were borne from the history of their lives together.

Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by, Rochelle Wiesoff-Fields. The challenge is to write a full story in 100 words or less. Click the blue frog to read more flash fiction from other writers.

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