A Dreamed Walking
There was once a time when I thought all that mattered was one moment. One person and one frozen bits of glass that danced across my memory. In some ways it was so sacred that even my days were rushed just so I could dream again. And in my silent breaths I heard my name said, but was it just my name or was it the heat in the voice that called me? Oh so many night I laid crying out in hopes I meant something. Yet, today and days leading up, I find my name is only in held in my breath. My thoughts are directly impacted by how I view a noise, a second of time and how I stand upright or slouched. In my past I was always groomed to be plain or hidden so not to draw attention, even though somehow, I still did. And though I still saw myself as that temptation, I do not note the glances much now nor the whispers. For me the sighs that roll into my night time hours, find themselves lonely. Only because dreams rarely come at night and my tears do not stain my face nor my pillows. They...