Dreams, forever forgetful and fond of fiction,
tend toward betrayal. More often than not
these days, I dream myself standing, walking–

gliding, really–down hallways, up staircases,
into dances. In sleep, my body exists only
to satisfy its mind, settles into blissful illusions

of its own ability. Beast that I am, I wake
each morning untrained and wholly convinced
by the night’s movement, once again sure that

this disease, like all those before it, has run its course
and left me whole and healed. Morning, though,
promises nothing to limbs betrayed by dreams.

I Love Your Comments! I hope you'll keep them coming!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s