The Hero of Her Dream

April 28, 2012

She Could See Him

When the sun rose. Said the girl. To her lover. Your finger inside me. Makes me glow.

His hand pulling away. Like a letter from an envelope.

Not a day. Goes by. That I don’t think of you. She said and he. Smiled. He wished. That he could remember her name.

With the moon. So hollow. The sun’s breath. Touches you like he was your God. And you pray that this moment. Might last. Until the dusk. And he. Smiles. Wishes. That she could see him. And not the hero of her dream.

7 Responses to “The Hero of Her Dream”

  1. Wow David I love the image. Marvelous.

  2. images… fading… gripping…

  3. Love this image. And the words… very touching

  4. Alethea Eason said

    Beautiful, and the picture works perfectly with your words. I love how haunting both are. I love the broken sentences and how each new sentence reflects and answers the one before. For me, this stirs up the idealization of the anima and the reality of the a moment of intimacy spent with the reality of a real human encounter which can be beautiful, but can it transcend the sheer perfection of a dream?

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