On the flip side
of the dream veil.
A distant shoreline
where her dreams sail.
She sees the tides
float and fall
and the gulls
waving to and fro.
Sand trickles from high,
like snow in a snow globe,
shaken and put aside.
Everything where it should be,
only twisted into a circus picture show.
Then here becomes there,
beacons flare.
Every night she ends up here,
in someone else's dreams.
She sees him.
The poet.
In between
the shimmering trees, behind leaves,
hiding in the pages.
Scared he looks.
The creator of this world.
Not a god, just a builder.
Connected, by a fine strand of hair,
that floats on his lost stare.
It's always so wonderful to visit,
if only she could tell him,
but their paths
always divert.
She thinks he knows.
She can feel the hurt
in the deep purple hues,
that she sees,
when the view becomes askew.
She sees the forests he constructs,
perfectly highlighting the moon,
never obstructs the view,
just frames it
like a photograph taken only for you.
She hears the wolf howling a tune,
and the watchman strumming along.
She walks the mazes of his mind.
Always leaving a breadcrumb trail behind,
never in fear of the things she'll find.
On the flip side
otherworldly thoughts collide,
to which she is somehow tied.
A thread to this other mind.
A shared destiny entwined.
If only the twisting paths
would converge,
magic could emerge
from these merged dreams.
Thanks for reading
Endless Nightmares out now
300 pages of horror themed poetic storytelling
Please take a look at my previous collection "Torn Pages"
100+ all new poems not shared here before.
https://tinyurl.com/KCtornpages
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