I, We, She. (And The Me That Isn't Her)

I have dreams of houses

Filled with pearl necklaces

And dogs sleeping in

Wheelbarrows.

 

Felt tips paint the pictures

Under my eyelids

And as the water

Wets the lines

I cry ink.

 

At night I am her.

While my other self sleeps, and

 I we she makes stories

From threads of

Unconscious thought.

Weaving each strand

Into a rope of dreaming.

 

I have dreams of houses

Filled with pearl necklaces

And dogs sleeping in

Wheelbarrows.

 

They spiral into wakings

Which puzzle

The me that isn’t her.

And so we sit and write.

 

(Try to make sense of our words)

Reviews

[Beatrice Mars]

'From threads of
Unconscious thought.
Weaving each strand
Into a rope of dreaming.'

Those lines are amazing. The whole poem feels likes you are half way to unconsciousness and are trying to make sense of everything. (or maybe that's just what i'm like atm...)
xx

[EMP]

:O this is amazing claire!
deep and powerful. amazing imagery (i have dreams of houses filled with pearl necklaces)
and everything is just so brillinat about it.
ESPECIALLY the 3rd stanza. love it. 'from threads of unconscious thought. weaving each strand into a rope of dreaming'
LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE IT