dreaming

dreamt of a past last night.
or was it a past night.

you took my hand
like how you hold
a hot plate – tenderly, gingerly.
cautiously.

like how you hold
a finished dream – excitedly, expectantly.
unwillingly.

your features incandescent,
but could never make out your face.
every facet emaculate,
detailed, yet dazed.

we strolled down Amsterdam
we crushed the foolscap,
unveiling fresh blanks.
what were we doing there?
lost in each other’s stare.

you turned your back,
like how you used to –
not how i wanted to though.
but this time it came through,
a silent promise
of things to come –
better left imagined.

but i could touch,
but i could tell –
no that was you, the words
you never spoke,
never did.
intrepid me, ever creating
saw light
in a soul left degrading
i know it was you,
i know where she stood –
for me.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
just leave me be,
i will remember you.
i don’t need a dream
a reminder of when you left me

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