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Source of Inspiration (A Poem)

  Only a Dream

  Dew falls as tears glisten, stark against speckled glass.

  The sigh of bittersweet rain upon translucent panes and vacant orbs of ash mauve,

  The heave of enervated hearts and broken dreams.

  Staring beyond the crystalline fringes to reveries of procured ambitions

  And linking shards that fill the rifts of one's being.

  Looking for the enigma with sable locks and virescent irises.

  Waiting for him,

  The boy that promised they'll be together forever,

  The man that never came.

  The entity that never existed.

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  She believed she would come by him,

  Stumble across him against the limitations and practicalities of this world,

  That destined hearts, bound souls, would find one another despite the odds,

  despite the truth.

  For he was very much real in the illusions that are dreams,

  The mirages of the mind.

  The quirk of a smile, the whisper of shifting hair and beating lash,

  The tilt of the brow and the cadence of mellifluous timbres.

  Tangible idiosyncrasies that billowed from extending hands,

  Reachable but never attainable.

  Fading away with each day unremembered,

  Struggling to recall the contours of the jaw, the wink of the eyes.

  Only now, it's all but an evanescent dream of the past,

  A fool's wish though she knew in reality it was just that-

  A dream.

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