In My Dreams, I am You

claude lazar

When I look into your eyes, I realise I came from a long journey across time, before yours nor mine. I knew this from recurring dreams. They’re so vivid that when I wake up, my arms my feet my body’s broken, sore and tired. These dreams are more than just a realm in my subconscious, they’re real.

In my dreams, I have your eyes, your smile, and everything’s new under the sun. In my dreams I am lost looking for something, anything feels like a mother. In my dreams, I too am abandoned, unwanted. In my dreams, I am you.

When I Look Into Your Eyes, When I My Own Daughter

Morning Song

Morning Song

skin to skin I could feel us

-the liquid beneath our feet,

trampling into endless vacuum,

bleak and emptied I barely

recognise your bald cry, a far sea

distant and I am no more

your mother–

 

you have arrived into

a morning song

 

“It’s Him”, IV, Letters to Sylvia

Stories of A Little Girl Named Lara

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i’ve been carving memories on dry walls

four seasons of loneliness and you came bearing your own

stories of a little girl named Lara

 

her face her smile her every breath you inhale her

a picture perfect deep into your soul

she exists to you in ways that I could not

she has a smile that’s similar to mine, you said

her hair is golden like the sun,

 

this little ballerina and her pink tutu

and when she cries you cup her tears in your palms letting

them soak into the lines of your hands that once

a fortune teller told you, you wouldn’t make it to forty,

 

that you would be entangled in a story like none other

she said I would write them for you so daddy’s little girl

could forever lives in rhymes…

in bedtime stories and lullabies…

 

“daddy’s little girl, paints the world with her magic wand…”

 

from Letters to Lovers Lost

currently progressing, Lara

Nothing Pretty Comes for Free

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dear me dear me
i checked you off my bucket list, turning you from a dream to reality
giving ways for envious eyes staring when i held you with me
you’re so pretty i could not resist this temptation, the poetry i’d be
but destiny is as cruel as it can be
i broke you to pieces, a whole again i might never be

dear me dear me
this is what life tried to tell me, nothing pretty comes for free
they keep telling “you’re milk and honey”
and that “the truth will set you free”
but i know better than to let these demons be
taking up space in between deceit and sincerity
when all i ever wanted was to go back being me

dear me dear me
being pretty never comes for free

thank you Ayas, for letting me write this with you.