The Rise and Fall of Dreams

When I talk to you

I can pretend this is real.

For a moment, dreams of you holding me tight,

stolen hopes from the night before

manifest, then disperse,

startled birds rising from branches

of a dead tree.

I pretend that these fairy tales,

my imaginations of being with you

are reality for a mere second.

Our eyes meet, you smile.

And then you move away and towards her,

as inevitable as the tides’ rise and fall.

I want to take the responsibility,

be the moon in your sky,

but it is too much to ask

in the face of your own dreams of someone else.

So I only look at your hands

resting on the table between us,

but do not touch.

I treat you like a wild animal,

skittish and shying from my touch.

If I make too sudden of a move,

Come to close, you will run from me,

far beyond my reach.

Eyes wide open I still wonder if you’re true

or just another image running away

between the books and pages

scattered on my floor.

Should I add you to those

discarded leaves from long ago?

Another memento of

dreams never meant to be.

Yesterday you enclosed me in your arms,

so softly and so brief

I wondered if you could have been near me at all.

Could I step forward and press my lips against your skin,

taste your chapped lips?

May I press my weight against you

until I can believe you’re more than air?

No, for I shudder to see you push and pull away,

punishing me for testing illusion with the heat of my skin,

touching what isn’t mine to take.

I was satiated by phantom thoughts

And stolen bits of companionship.

Because inconsistent ghosts were preferable

To the ringing silence of an empty room.

And though I yearn to reach out for your hand

I stop myself short.

Because you will always be half in my world,

half in someone else’s heart.

I want you to see me the way I see you,

but I am a window to look through,

on the way to better things.

So I swallow the words,

and they don’t go down easy.

They are razor blades I slip between my teeth,

one by one.

Convulsively pushed down my throat,

tearing me apart inside.

Later I look in the mirror,

find that I can’t see anything there.

I wrapped myself in layers,

surrounded by the unreality

of unrequited feelings,

hoping for you,

until I disappeared.

By Alissa Tsaparikos