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Fresh Poets Society

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Recurring Dreams

Every Night

I close my eyes tonight to once more escape world where you are not.
When I have crossed over through my groggy senses. I recognize  this realm I find myself in. I come here every night in a disparaging search for you, always just falling short and awaken to dawn of my own existence. Your presence is so corporeal here. It is felt deeply in the core of my essence but I cannot reach you.

Wandering this all too all familiar landscape being unable find you has been heart breaking. I call your name in a unspoken cry only to hear your murmurs in the echoes of my words. I try to catch those whispers and unable to place the source just to have them lost in the mists.

I ascend up a long overgrown lane to an old  hotel long abandoned and great disrepair. It must have been a beautiful vista in its day with its beautiful carved Athenian marble stone work. I could feel the parts of the souls the long dead artisans left behind them in the details crafted by their hands.

I stepped my way through what I think was the grand entrance its  doors long torn from its hinges and lying on the ground and enter main foyer.The place was a mess with broken articles strewn around. The paint peeling and hanging from what it had once adhered to. Nature as apt as she will be was slowing reclaiming what man had had brought forth in his misplaced glory.The smell tears at my nose. The acrid mustiness speaks of the death and decay.

The focal point of foyer at the center was large spiralling ornate staircase  climbing high above me.I hear your voice and I run to its base and begin to climb. We call back and forth to each other in a frantic exchange but you are always just above and around the curve. With my final effort I close the distance and I see your face. We reach out our hands only for my eyes to open to another day.

I think this is quite lovely (and almost rhythmic in places). Also, writing in first person is hard to do well I think, you did good!

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