There’s no word I haven’t uttered before,
Nor is there any dearth for metaphor
For me to properly pronounce my misery,
There’s never been a word in existence
That could paint you a picture too real
Of the most beautiful dream I had,
One I was rudely shaken out of.
The longer you’re away, less real you seem;
Were you just that to me, then?
My mysterious Prince from a land unknown,
Have I only met you once upon a dream?
Now I’m left out in the cold,
Alone with my thoughts of you–
I could have sworn I heard your voice,
It had been etched in my memory.
But now, you seem so distant, unreal,
Like a fever dream, twisted and baffling;
I keep calling out your name,
But you’re never here, never hear
The way my heart shatters in the silence
You’ve left behind in your absence–
And so here I am, in a spiral to no end,
Unable to recall if it was all real;
Slipping and falling, a piece at a time
Into this vivid delirium.
You’ve been gone long enough
And all I have now are fragments of you,
But if you were, indeed, just a dream,
You’d be the most wondrous thing ever
That my thoughts could ever paint;
How I wish there could be a sign,
How I wish I got a mere glimpse of you,
Wishing this delirium never ceased
So I could hold on to
The pieces I have left of you.
~© Shubhangi Srinivasan.