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DUSTED WINGS By Jim Greenwald

Her image drifts in and out of my troubled mind.
Surreal shapes enveloped in cascading waves
of wispy cobweb like obscurity.
A sensation tingling in the recesses of my thoughts
as if remembering something, I know not what.
Are these dreams, am I asleep?
Haunted by familiar sounds knowing and yet not.
Questions fill my thoughts doubts of existence.
Perhaps this is a nightmare.
I am becoming more agitated and confused
twisting and unsettled in this unknown conflict.
Where am I, I think I can hear myself speak asking you to reach out and touch me, my confused mind sees an image of you as I speak but you just look away.
Consciousness comes abruptly to a body soaked in perspiration.
I look and you are there next to me awakened by my cries.
I see the light from your eyes and I see the shadows they cast.
I lie back down and close my eyes seeking dreams once more of the one I love to carry me into a world beyond the veil of the emptiness of my tortured reality.
My dreams quickly carry me away.
Lost in the sadness of my life’s reality I run only to find before me the haunting beauty of your face.
To breathe is to be close to you.
To walk away is an answer and not, for in the morning my tear stained pillow will always be there.
I can only dream that you are next to me.
Haunting sounds echo in my mind.
Hidden shadows speak in the ebb and flow of this nightmarish dream.
I feel myself drowning in emotion as love ceases to exist
the masquerade over as pain pours in penetrating my soul and ripping apart my already fragile heart.
In despair I try to fly to you but I am just a butterfly with dusted wings.

Bio: Jim Greenwald, lives in New Paris, PA.  A graduate of Saint Francis University (MA) he has been writing for several years.  His work has been published in several anthologies and magazines including: Cafe del Sol, CC&D and Stellar Showcase Journal.