I often have this strange and draining dream:
A known woman who yet remains unknown,
Who meets my eyes and makes tears flow and stream,
And who brings joy from which I will atone.
We glance across the water-filling dale.
Her name? It hides, repressed, within my mind.
Her face? It lies, desired, beyond the pale.
Her life? It’s sought, but it can never be.
I wake up soon, always against my will.
For days, I’m empty, wishing dreams were real.
Her fakeness makes me feel so very ill.
It waits to come again until I heal.
I know myself through her alone. Alas,
I cannot see her in the looking glass.
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Author:
justARandomJulia (
Offline) - Published: December 15th, 2025 11:59
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
- Users favorite of this poem: Soman Ragavan
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Comments1
A reflection that can not be seen. A haunting poem nicely worded and laid out.
Thank you!
You are welcome
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