The Dream

Written over the course of three months, The Dream, is a collection of poems surrounding the topics of love, longing, and heartbreak, all written as if it were a fantasy.


July

“July” begins with a longing, a yearning for my person and ends with a bittersweet taste.

“7/16

I want to write about the valleys of your heart and the hydrangeas that grow in them. I want to write about the colors of your soul, how they shine brighter than the moon. Would you let me, my love, document the universe of your mind, that has the power to cleanse my being? Would you let me show the world how you hold an ocean within your body?”


August

“August” deals with the anxiety that surrounded me that month and how I looked within myself for answers. Ultimately, it is less about love and more about the effects it had on me.

“8/18—10:51PM


they say that i won’t get into heaven. i did not know that you had to be chosen, picked like an apple from a tree, to get to a paradise. is this not the heaven? do i not wake up to heaven each day? i thought that the ocean, the words, the emotions, the beauty, was that world. am i not breathing now, am i not writing. are you to tell me that this ink is not heaven? i thought it was her eyes, her voice, her laugh, her smile, her love. i thought it was my ability to imagine, dream, desire, think. are you to tell me that these miracles are not heaven? i thought that it was the melody, the smell, the movement, the memories, the flowers. i believed it was the silk of the moment, the passion. are you to tell me that these words themselves are not heaven, that she wasn’t an angel, a ninety or a moonbeam, that the pain was shallow, that the candle, the light, burned for no one, that i was not the apple picked from the tree? believe my words when i say that as long as i have a pen, a page and a soul, anything you conjure up to torture me with, even the eternal inferno of hell, will become my heaven.”


September

In the final and shortest section of The Dream, “September,” there are poems regarding fear due to love and my deepest emotions.

“2:22 AM—9/2

I feel like crying into love. That is what I did. I cried in my love and shouldn’t have been surprised when those tears made a tsunami that drowned my love. My body is pulling me down and my right eye is tearing up for love. For love we lose a piece of ourselves forever. What a price to feel an emotion. A part of me I can never get back. We cannot all be the mask or the “always dream”, can people be your “always dream”? Maybe you were mine? But, my core, there are reasons that dreams aren’t called reality. We remained in that state for almost forever. Almost forever I loved you. But you broke my heart. You are the angel that broke my heart, and couldn’t glue back the pieces. Do they ever speak of the pieces. The pieces of you that are lost eternally when someone decides to damage you. I dream of those pieces. It’s a shame, truly. A pure shame that something that is meant to give life should be broken so quickly. It is strong, it is everything I am not in the good way. And it is meant for life. But so easily does it die. Why must the heart not float like the heavens of my pen. Why must the heart not float. – there goes that right eye tear again. will it fall this time?”