A Dreamed-of Love

Is our love not a dream?

Is our love not simply a dream?

For perfection emerges from below the depths

of your golden pupils;

of which once held the oceans

in their reign.

Too often did I

receive the blissful scars

of adulation

and poetic gashes.

Too often do I

borne sorrow

sprouted from your

distant kisses.

And to believe you aren't a dream!

So wondrous it is to formulate

an intangible lover

that I often wonder,

if instead,

perhaps it is me

who is the dream.

Author's Note

Photo courtesy of HelloBaby of Deviant Art.

Reviews

[paul sal.....]

You seam to reside along the interface of light and darkness, yearning for the wonders of light but not believing it is attainable. Well, the world can be and mostly is an ugly place, most of which is caused by humans. It seems to me those of us that dawdle here at the writers cafe are sharing a cup of coffee and and a side order of light. Love is tangible, whether you breath air or live under the sea, all you have to do is reach out and hold it's hand.....

[Tai Ryens]

Thank you, friend!

[Baby Ricochet]

I kinda feel that way looking at online porn

[Tai Ryens]

My goodness, your mind baffles the dot-sized part of my brain containing humor.

[Baby Ricochet]

Ha!

[That_Girl]

It can definitely be confusing at times. Nothing is ever perfect though. Nice poem!

[Tai Ryens]

Indeed not. Thank you.