Not All Dreams Come True

The recurring dream visited me again

I lie weak and still
in a white bleach bed

The IV drips in a limestone cave
dissociates from my vein

His magnetic reading voice
drifting in and out of my conscious
sometimes the news
sometimes poetry
sometimes from my favourite novel

The sun is warm and bright
My inside is just a set of dying organs
My eyes surrender to the light

I woke up in the middle of the night
It was raining outside
The reality hit me
He was so far away from me
Dying alone was no longer a dream.

Author: Cassa Bassa

🇦🇺🇨🇳 inquisitive, observant, witty, a thinker, was a misfit child 😊 View all posts by Cassa Bassa